


Ghosts of the Past

by SickRavenBird



Series: Ghosts of the Time [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light BDSM, Other, Porn With Plot, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickRavenBird/pseuds/SickRavenBird
Summary: Miranda Bradbury moved to Gotham for a few reasons - to enjoy her career as an assassin, and to face her fears. Who else should help her with hallucinations that follow her than the fear expert Jonathan Crane? However, the doctor-patient relationship is very unstable one as both of them have to fight with their past, their present, and Batman.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ghosts of the Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604551
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to figure out some fancy way to describe the story.  
> It's just a porn about two sick freaks.  
> Enjoy.

It was a dark evening in Gotham. Now, every evening was dark, but in Gotham with its never-ending mist of smog, it was especially dull and uncomfortable. Street lights wouldn’t break the darkness, windows only shined TV light out and painted pictures of entertained families, or dining families, or, as most common in Gotham, arguing families.

Gotham was also loud and Terry Borrows hated that fact. They’ve never got used to constant car noises – revving of engines and horn honking that all coming back twofold in echoes bouncing from walls of thin streets. Annoying, headache causing. Terry would rather listen to their boss shouting all day.

They were hyper focused on the noise. On their check-up doctor said it’s nothing weird and then asked for payment in amount of Terry’s two-month salaries. Thief.

That’s when they heard it. Soft, almost silent _ding_. As if you try to get attention at the wedding table and you hit the crystal glass with a spoon. Once. Carefully. It sounded almost magical in this grey place.

 _Ding_.

Terry stopped. At the end of the narrow street they saw a shadow. It was a person kneeling next to something on the ground. Terry didn’t see any details, but dread climbed on their back. This is Gotham. Terry should run. It doesn’t matter what were they witnessing, the logical thing is to…

 _Ding_.

The person looked his way. Every little move was followed by that soft jingle.

And then Terry realized they can’t move anymore. The jingle dinged louder. And louder. The sound vibrated through the streets catching them right by the soul. Terry realized they can’t breathe. Their heart was racing like crazy and their head hurt from wave of sound around them.

The person… a woman… walked straight to Terry, bringing the sound with her. In the dark Terry recognized a scarf on her face and… oh god… bloody knife in her hand.

 _Run!_ They tried to move their legs. Nothing.

The sound. The fear. The knife.

Finally, Terry’s body gave in and they fainted. They didn’t see the woman touching their neck for pulse. Nor did they hear the sound stop as the woman left without hurting them.

In the street, there lay another body.

***

Miranda Bradbury really liked Gotham. She felt like a character in gothic romance. Darkness, never-ending mist and bad weather, creepy architecture and constant danger. She enjoyed Gotham since she’s moved here two weeks prior. This city was crazy. Mental even! During the time period she tried to adapt to her new environment, she’s already seen the clown terrorizing city, the Riddler enslaving a whole block and some maniac with knives kidnapping people trying to lure in the Bat.

Oh, yeah. Batman. Before she didn’t understand. How can the police just let mask vigilante on loose? She understood after two days. This city…

This city also ruined her business right away. She moved here, opened a toyshop and that was it. The empty place flourished under her care, filled with toys, decorations and joy. The shop was in pretty good part of town, and yet – no customers. Too late she found out this used to be a toyshop of some crazy guy – calling himself the Toymaker – who tried to kill the city with explosive teddy-bears and sentient Barbie dolls.

Yes. This city was mental.

And she loved it. She always tried to blend in, be the grey mouse in her warm turtleneck and messy brown hair. After witnessing crazy punk-rock fashion of this city she realized she stood up more like this. At least she can pass for naïve outsider. That’s always a plus in her line of work.

The fourth day and finally two guys entered her shop. They looked around with deep uninterest in their eyes. Walked through isles touching stuffed toy here and there or picking up a toy car and putting it back two seconds later. Miranda waited patiently at the counter, small smile on her lips.

They finally stopped in front of her. She suspected they are twins as their expression were the same – dull and bored. They were dressed like gangsters from twenties. Gotham was weirdly stuck in time.

“G’morning, lady,” said one of them despite it being deep afternoon. “We’ve come to talk.”

“How much?” Miranda asked.

“Excuse me?”

“How much?” she repeated not losing her patience. She adored the confused looks. “This isn’t my first rodeo, gentlemen. How much is the protection fee?”

“Straight lass, huh?”

“Partially,” Miranda joked. “I hate beating around the bush.”

“Don loves people like you. Right to bus’ ya know? It’s ten percent if you don’t want’cha place to burn.”

Miranda overlooked the empty store. Ten percent of nothing is… probably not suitable for Don Falcone, one of the mafia leaders of the city. Before setting the shop, Miranda made her research on the city’s bad guys. Always ready. Don Falcone won’t care, he will just want his cash. She started to think she underestimated the marketing. _Be better PR, Miranda, it’s not that hard._

“Tell me, friends,” she started with a nice voice, “how does Don Falcone feel about illegal businesses?”

***

Miranda moved to Gotham for various reasons. One of them was the fact she was constantly on the move. She’s never spent anywhere more than two years. The last city she was in was Star City and that didn’t go well for her with all the supers around.

The second reason was that she’s always heard about Gotham as this sick place. The city corrupted by illness eating itself out like a wounded animal. That intrigued her and she felt as if this is the proper place to hide and never be found. And if she is, it will be probably in the dumpster behind some chemical plant. She could live with that future in mind.

The third reason… the main reason she wasn’t afraid to admit, she just didn’t want to deal with it… was him. Professor Jonathan Crane. Miranda took years of stupid, non-working, useless therapy to end up here. Her… could she even call them fears?... were crippling. And she needed the best. Jonathan Crane was the best. The fear specialist with shady background. But that’s Gotham for you. You might do inhumane experiments on your students and don’t get your licence revoked.

Miranda should probably be afraid of someone like that. Ridiculous idea. He was still running decent psychiatric office and all reviews threw him five stars. She will be careful. She just really needed help.

This was the part she hated. Explaining. She sat in front of the professor. He was fairly young for the title. Miranda’s looked through his files too, though he has been careful keeping most of the information hidden. Star student, at least he used to be. Those climb the leader fast. He wasn’t even forty yet, his ginger hair hid possible grey hair very well. He was watching her with his intense blue eyes and almost never blinked. He waited for her to get everything out. Miranda hated those stories. Repeating them again always made her feel crazy. She probably was.

“It’s complicated. I will try to make it short.” _Now, Miranda, where is your hate for beating around the bush, huh? Just tell the nice doctor you are a fucking madwoman._

The professor was silent. Waiting. Even sitting he was very tall, and she noticed his fingers being thin and bony, just like his whole appearance.

“I have a problem. I’ve seen tons of shrinks about it already. Most of them gave up on me or drugged me to no avail. The thing is I have this weird… I don’t know… Phobia. Causing me panic attacks, crippling me.”

“That is not uncommon for deep fears,” said the professor. Miranda wondered how can shrinks be so calm. If someone told her they are crazy, she would probably joke about it right away.

“Yes, I know. I was told that hundred times already. There’s a catch.”

“Do tell.”

Miranda shuffled in her chair. No matter how many times she has talked about this it still made her uncomfortable and she felt like an idiot. But she had to fight this. Or she might…

“It’s ghosts. I panic around ghosts.”

The professor opened his mouth to say something, but Miranda quickly stopped him.

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts. That’s nonsense. I just call these things ghosts. It’s like… hallucination I keep having. They appear and it’s like someone caught my heart and pulled it out of my chest. I feel dead. I cannot move, I cannot act, think, anything. But according to all the doctors, I am sane.”

“When do these ghosts appear?” Professor didn’t even flinch. Nor blinked. He heard crazy talk daily why should she be any more interesting?

“They first appeared a little over a decade back. This is when the first attack happened. Then I got a charm, see?” She touched her necklace. Simple round silver ball that jingled softly when moved. “It keeps them away. When I take this off, I see them. I get attacked right away.”

“May I see?”

She held the pendant firmly. “Sorry, I don’t take it off on the first date.”

Her joke created tiny smile on his face. “Understandable.”

He asked more questions and she tried to answer as truthfully as her crime record allowed. By the end of the session she felt like dried out sponge.

“Don’t be afraid, miss Bradbury. We will figure this out,” professor said when she was leaving.

“Funny you say that. I can’t really feel the fear,” she smiled and that ended their first meeting.

***

Terry Borrows way lying in the hospital bed. They hit their head during the horrid night which caused a mild concussion. The doctors were also worried about their heart because it showed signs of arrythmia. It disappeared a day after the incident, but everyone was head over heels with this situation.

“They keep me here because they want to blame it on me,” wrote Terry to their friend. “Because they have nobody else for the murder.” Terry believed that. This wouldn’t be the first time Gotham has fucked them over. At least they survived. Witnessing murder first hand was like being sentenced to death.

So, they were bored on the hospital bed, half asleep, half awake, back hurting from cheap bedding. Eyes closing and opening again just to see how far the sun has moved or whether the food was ready.

Closing. Opening. The sun was setting.

Closing. Opening. Darkness.

Closing. Opening. Shadow.

Terry’s heart nearly stopped. They shouted by surprise. They are definitely going to die now!

“Terry Borrows,” said the shadow with a deep voice. “I have few questions for you.”

Terry was struck by fear. The rational part of their brain wanted to scream. They didn’t. They watched a man dressed as giant bat and their voice trembled.

“Y-yes?”

“What did you see at the crime scene?”

“I already told the police everything.” There was panic in their voice.

“Tell me.”

“There was a woman, she killed someone. She had some sort of mask. She… ah!”

The door opened. The nurse stepped between the doorframe, looked at Batman and then strategically left closing the door behind her. Terry swallowed a curse.

“Continue,” demanded Batman.

“The sound. It was the sound that made me faint.”

“What else can you remember?”

“The jingle. She was jingling like some fucking Christmas tree.”

“What about her movement?”

“What about it?” asked Terry. Batman just waited to let them figure out what he means. “I don’t know. I saw her just for a few seconds. She was hidden in the shadows.”

“Thank you, Terry.”

“You are welcome?” answered Terry unsurely. Then the door opened again, and doctor stormed in ready to shun the uninvited guest.

But he was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Mercy and Dylan were standing in the warehouse next to a van. There were more Don Falcone’s men but these two lead this business. Gun dealing was simple thing for most parts. It only went sideways if the Bat appeared.

“That woman, where is she?” asked Dylan.

“Over there, among the containers,” pointed Mercy. “She went all over the warehouse and then disappeared in shadows.”

“Sick,” grumbled Dylan. “I hate these guys for hire, all of them are freaks. Remember Deadshot?”

“Don’t remind me.” The memory of people killed by simple pin was still too fresh.

“How do we call this one anyways? Dark ninja lady?”

“Banshee,” the voice behind them said darkly. Mercy and Dylan almost jumped out of their skins. The woman stood behind them, scarf on her face, jingle bells on her belt and several weapons next to them. “They are coming,” she said and walked away. Mercy tried to follow her with her gaze, but once Banshee entered shade of crates it was like she disappeared.

“Freaks.”

Another van entered the warehouse. Out of it came five people armed to teeth. This was very friendly business, Mercy recognized two of them. These sells usually went smoothly.

Banshee overlooked the whole situation. She was more used to excitement. This bored her. When she offered her services, she hoped for more hitman jobs. Being a bodyguard and waiting for the Bat to appear… she could have just spent her evening watching TV.

People down there were talking, showing each other goods, smiling even. Banshee let herself get lost in thoughts. This was her fourth week in Gotham so far. She expected it to be harder. The toyshop even had a few customers already.

The boring sell was over. Everybody turned to leave. Banshee stayed in the shadows, her time will come. She needs to clean the booby-traps she set. All that preparation for nothing.

_No, not nothing. You got paid, remember?_

With a sigh she started to clean. While taking down the sound traps, a rustle of fabric sounded through the place. Banshee turned fast but nothing was there. She frowned, someone was here, they will not slip away.

Banshee made two steps, looked around, a sound mine firmly held in her hand.

Nothing.

She felt her heart speeding up. She jumped away just in time. Batarang missed her. She tossed the mine the way she expected the attacker. High frequency waves filled the room. The rhythm bounced of her heart making her chest painful.

Then she saw him lurking in the shadows. She took out a gun and shot two times. Missed. He disappeared among the boxes. Banshee jumped up and turned on another sound grenade. Her body got used to crazy beats over the years but even herself couldn’t take them forever. Covering your ears wouldn’t work because the frequency attacked the body.

The Bat stumbled in the darkness revealing himself. She jumped on him, kicked him. He tried to dodge, he caught her punches but couldn’t hold her long enough to stop her. Punch, kick, he started bleeding from the nose. The noise intensified and even Banshee felt copper taste in her mouth.

In final attempt he moved away and grappled way from her. He disappeared.

Banshee stood there breathing heavily. She couldn’t believe her eyes, she felt like she was fighting her old friends, like…

Her body trembled. She didn’t have this reaction for years!

Banshee turned off the sound mines. She breathed out, her heart calmed down, and held her shirt under which her necklace was hidden.

“You still here?” she asked empty warehouse. “I have a question.”

But she was all alone.

***

That night Miranda walked home, and she noticed a person standing at the end of the street. She blinked and the silhouette was gone.

***

Leading a double life was standard for her at this point. She loved her job, the excitement of the hunt. But too much excitement can kill you. That’s why she divided herself. Miranda Bradbury, nice shopkeeper, enjoys pizza and alcohol and loves to sing loudly when alone. And Banshee, assassin, gun for hire, wanted in all fifty states. And both of them on the run.

She was sitting in her shop when a customer came in. She jumped on her feet. Everyone would recognize the face and in real life, he was even more handsome than the gossip magazines made him look. Bruce Wayne.

“How can I help you?” she asked and almost spilled tea all over herself and the counter. Gotham’s billionaire walking into her shop? That was crazy!

“Miss Bradbury is it?” he smiled with perfect teeth. “I’ve heard you redecorated this place.”

She didn’t know what to say so she just nodded, dumbfounded.

“I love to see old places getting new, better reputation,” he continued to look around.

“Glad to help.”

He laughed shortly and leaned over the counter. “There is this charity event for local orphanage. So, I was thinking about donating toys. I am sort of collector myself, I have this giant T-Rex from Jurassic Park replica in my basement, so when I was looking for likeminded people, I found your shop.”

“I have no words,” joked Miranda. Straight to the point, these billionaires. “Nobody every called me nerd this nicely before. I can give you discount. For the kids.”

“Thank you, that’s great! Can we make really big order?”

“Sure.”

“And I will make sure to send you the event invitation. My treat.”

***

That’s how Miranda got into this gala evening. She felt very inappropriate in her cheap dress among all these posh, rich people. She stood by the bar, drinking one glass after the other. Formal events didn’t interest her much, but it was a good marketing. Despite everything, she cared for the shop. It gave her money, it made children happy, it was her base for illegal deals.

She’s seen Bruce Wayne flirt with every woman he met. So, the magazines didn’t lie, he was a playboy. Good on him, when you can enjoy a life, you should do it.

Watching the crowd got tiring fast. She was scanning the room, ate some finger food from time to time. The atmosphere of music and laughter got to her. Or maybe it was the alcohol. She saw the silhouette again.

This time closer.

Someone walked past her field of vision.

The shape disappeared.

 _That’s it! No more drinking!_ She gathered herself and went to find a bathroom. The building was full of small corridors leading to nowhere. She ended in one of those.

No toilet. But at the end of the corridor she saw three man in masks holding one of the servers in front of them like a human shield, gun aiming at server’s head.

Miranda stopped. The armed people noticed her. She was too far away for them to grab her, but also too far for any self-defence. ‘Great,’ the thought, ‘next time, bring a knife.’

They did only logical thing. Shot at her with their silenced guns. She did only logical thing. Ran behind the corner and went fast for the main hall.

“Watch out!” she shouted but the loud music silenced her. ‘Well, every man for himself,’ she decided and ran up the stairs. She didn’t trust the main door. Windows or a roof will be her way out.

She went up one flight of stairs, almost knocked one of the waitresses over, and stopped dead in her steps. On the top of the stairs stood… a man? Dressed as bad Halloween decoration in scarecrow costume with scythe in one hand and gloves with sharp nails.

_It’s an ambush led by crazies! Damn you Gotham!_

The man didn’t say a word. He held his scythe high and slashed towards her. She jumped backward and stumbled. She moved one more time kicking her high heels off. No need to break your neck when you can be chopped to pieces.

The crowd downstairs started to scream. The armed men finally walked in. Sound of gunshots quickly silenced the music and the fun.

Miranda thought about the best approach. Scarecrow was walking down slowly; the bullets were flying downstairs. She calculated. Yeah. She was fucked.

“There is no getting away,” whispered the man scythe ready.

“Oh, tell me about it,” she snarked and went for him head on. He cut at her, she went close and caught the scathe by the handle. She kicked him in the guts, he bent from the pain, not letting go of the weapon. Scarecrow gathered himself and then grabbed at her with the glove, scratching her chest as she dodged.

Too late she realized he wasn’t going after her neck. When he held the hand up the tiny silver ball dangled in front of her. She screamed in shock, then he pushed her down.

She fell hard on her back down the stairs. “No! Give it back!” she demanded and then…

They stood there. Around Scarecrow there were six of them. The ghosts hoovered and their shadows ate the light from her eyes and oxygen out of her lungs. She wanted to scream and run and cry. She couldn’t. Miranda stopped breathing, she felt her heart beating quickly, nearly jumping out of her chest. The ghosts came closer and closer.

Their cold hands on her neck, on her chest, in her mouth. Choking her.

Scarecrow stood there watching. Even if she could, she wouldn’t see his expression. Yet he seemed pleased.

But she was dying.

She had no other care in the world. Body numb, lungs crippled. Death.

And then the world went dark.

***

It was supposed to be a quick hit and run. Gather the money from rich Gothamites, maybe test new smoke grenades and then leave. The research won’t pay itself. Scarecrow didn’t want to risk running into the Bat. He had healthy respect towards the detective. He had plans for him that didn’t include meeting him tonight.

But he also didn’t expect to meet Miss Bradbury. She tried to put up a fight and she was very good. He was sure she would have defeated him easily if he didn’t know her weak point.

He held the bell and watched her squirm. It gave him pleasure seeing people scrapped to their basic instincts. They scream, they fight or flight, they panic… brain is a brilliant machine. Fear it beautiful and it tastes like power. Grandma knew. Jonathan also knows.

But this pleasure vanished being replaced by sheer curiosity. Miranda Bradbury didn’t fight. Neither did she flight. She screamed, stumbled and then nothing.

He kneeled next to her.

No pulse. No breath.

“What?” he whispered to himself. He’s seen people die of fear. Their hearts giving in to pressure. But this… She just made him more curious.

What if…

Nonsense.

He did it anyways. He placed the silver ball in her palm. It made a small jingling sound as he handed it out.

Nothing. No change.

Of course, what was he thinking?

Shouting brought his attention to hall. “Damn it,” he mumbled as the Batman took out first guy. No time to waste, this was a fail of the bust. Jonathan threw one of his smoke grenades to the crowd. He turned to run.

He felt fingers slip of his ankle.

Miranda watched him, to weak to grab him.

“Interesting.”

Time to flee.

***

“Are you okay, miss Bradbury?”

Miranda stood next to the bar. She was drinking wine someone left standing there. Medics already took every shaken and screaming person out. Not her. She was fine. She was okay. She didn’t need help. She. Was. Fine.

She took another glass. Then finally looked at Wayne.

“Little shaken,” she answered. _A little? Miranda, dear, you nearly died. They had you. You felt them eat your soul. Cut your life piece by piece. They got you. All thanks to that jerk._

‘Doctor-patient confidentiality my ass,’ she thought angry at herself.

“Let me take you home,” offered Wayne.

How thoughtful. Problem was, she didn’t trust him. Her low-life criminal scum moves to Gotham and in few weeks damn Bruce Wayne is offering her a ride. Right after Batman kicked ass near her. Seemed to be too big of a coincidence.

“No, thank you. I think I will walk. Clear my head,” she smiled at him drinking one more glass in one go. Let the sweet unconsciousness take her.

“As you wish. Just be careful,” he backed away. Maybe she scared him with her stare or alcohol odour.

So, she walked. In this huge city it would take her hours. She didn’t care. There was a time she spent days walking barefoot on snow and sharp rocks. Miles and miles until every inch of her body became numb to pain. To every feeling.

Why did she remember now?

Oh, right, she left her shoes in the hall.

 _Fuck, Miranda, what were you thinking!_ She stopped, leaned on disgusting Gotham wall and stared at the blimps flying overhead. _Think clearly!_ _How hard is it, you stupid bitch_!

There were no stars visible. She remembered skies full of lights. She used to watch them every evening as a reminder she is still alive. Shimmering in the night sky – yes, still alive after hours of pain and torture and training. Still alive.

What will remind her here? Blinking lights of blimps? The Bat symbol shining on the heavy dark clouds that seemed to never go away? How can she be sure she isn’t one of them? A ghost?

“What’s beauty like you doin’ on a street like this?” The voice snapped her from memory land. Drunken man was walking towards her, knife in hand. “Gimme your jewellery and I will not gut you,” he chuckled.

“Fuck off, I am not in the mood.”

“What’ya say?” he blinked in surprised and got angry immediately. “You whore I tried to be nice!”

He stabbed at her. She caught his hand, broke his wrist in one fast movement. Silenced the scream before it even started by kicking him in the head.

He lay there like a sack of potatoes bleeding from the corner of his mouth.

Like an alarm clock, the rush of adrenaline finally awoke her from dizziness and bad memories. Finally, her mind cleared. It was all so obvious.

Jonathan Crane just tried to kill her.

Banshee will not let that pass.


	3. Chapter 3

She’s read about what happened at the gala in the news. Nobody died but few people got intoxicated by some sort of hallucinogen. Eventually everyone got better, but doctors still observed them for side effects.

Miranda was still angry at herself. Has her old master seen her, she would laugh in her face. “Unarmed! Ridiculous!”

_Sorry, master, for I have became too comfortable in my free skin._

“Unarmed! Beaten by a shrink!”

_You don’t have to rub it in._

“Disappointment!”

_Bitch._

Today she exchanged her turtleneck for tank top showing the scratch marks on her chest. She wondered, walking up the stairs to Crane’s office, whether he will be there. No words about cancelling the appointment.

She entered the office. He was sitting there as if nothing happened between them.

“Hello, Miss Bradbury.”

“Professor.”

The game was on.

She didn’t sit right away. She made sure the two office windows are open. Professor watched her without comment. When she was satisfied with the fresh Gotham air, she sat in the chair facing the man.

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you?” he gestured towards her scratches.

“Yes.” He seemed so calm. If she didn’t know better, she’d doubt the fiend was really him.

“Tell me then.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. They were uncanny. He nearly never blinked focused on her words. It was scary. And beautiful.

“You tried to kill me.”

He didn’t break eye contact. He let the words settle.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Can you spare some details?”

_Oh no, you don’t slip away so easily, you snake._

“The attack at the gala, sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes.”

“You attacked me there.”

“You are mistaken. I’ve been in my office whole night. Unfortunately going over Arkham reports.”

“You went right after the bell. You knew. Nobody else in Gotham knows.”

“Miss Bradbury, I am afraid you have a wrong man.”

“Interesting choice of words,” she smiled at him. “You will be afraid soon.”

“Don’t make me call the police, miss.”

“You wouldn’t have time.”

The tension in the air grew tighter.

“You want to make me doubt, but I am quite sane, professor. But sanity doesn’t stop me from bashing your skull in. Your next words might. Choose them wisely.”

He waited, calculating look in his eyes. Then he comforted himself in his chair, intertwined his fingers and smiled a bit.

“Your case is… fascinating.”

“Is it now?”

“It is not uncommon for people to collapse during panic attack. Neither is heart attack; however, it is weird for otherwise healthy individuals. Your reaction was over the top. Worse, than I expected. Your heart stopped.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Crane. You are boring me to your death.”

“I am not finished. The fear you have…” Miranda scoffed loudly but he continued uninterrupted, “is different. I would like to research it and help you fix it.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You are guessing. You have no idea how to help me.”

“That’s what research is for.”

Miranda smirked. “I can’t feel fear, professor. Even when the ghosts are killing me, I feel nothing than constant wish to live. I was a fool hoping it would change here.”

She stood up, turned to door.

“So that’s all?” he asked.

“If you ever cross me again, I will cut your head off with your scythe.”

“Shame. You would be interesting research material.”

“And your eyes would make a beautiful decoration. Goodbye, professor.”

“You know where to find me when you get worse.”

“If.”

“No, Miranda. When.”

***

She walked across the rooftop. To and fro. One way, the other. Impatiently, one would say. She didn’t feel impatient, just… Miranda didn’t know how she felt. Confrontational. Ready to kill a guy. She needed to talk.

She was guessing, didn’t know anything for sure. But her intuition’s proven right before. At the worst, she has made a fool out of herself. At the best, she will learn some new thing.

To and fro.

“Banshee,” the voice behind he rumbled. She stopped her pacing and turned. He must make so many people scared. Tall, dark, masked. Even she felt tremble first time. But it was because she knew what to look for. Other lose him in the darkness, not her.

“Batman,” she replied, “so you’ve come.”

“Our mutual friend asked me to.”

“Yes, mutual friend.” She sent a letter to Bruce Wayne and accused him of being the Bat. Was she right? She didn’t know, but the coincidence of him walking into her shop was simply too great. “I wanted to ask you a question,” she said. In retrospect it was a stupid one, but it was too late to back out.

He waited in silence. Strong, silent type, no wonder Joker went crazy over him. Miranda gathered herself some more.

“Are you going to kill me?” she finally asked.

If the question surprised him, he didn’t let it show.

“I don’t kill.”

“I’ve heard. But you are the League.”

“Where did you hear of that?”

“I have seen your moves. The League of Assassins training is so obvious it hurts. You are part of it.”

“I see,” he said. “You are a defector.”

“And those should be punished. That’s why I am asking. Are you?”

His expression didn’t change. “No, I am not part of the League anymore.”

_Oh, great. Two defectors in one city. This didn’t reek trouble at all! Great! Just brilliant! You picked the wrong city, Miranda, you stupid bitch. Next stop, Metropolis. At least there she knew Superman wasn’t a ninja._

“The League hasn’t entered Gotham for years now,” he continued. “I think you are safe for now.”

If she was safe what about the shadow figures she’s been seeing? First, she thought the League was onto her, but what about now?

“Thanks,” Miranda said blankly lost in thoughts. Then she realized what position she was in. She can talk to a former member freely. Well, partially, he is still the one who wants to lock her up because she likes her job. She asked anyways. “Have you ever heard of the survival curse?”

“Do you mean survival’s guilt?”

“No. It’s a curse with ritual and all. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“Ah… okay.”

The silence grew uncomfortable. Miranda looked at the city. All the lights, all the noise, she heard shouting and car alarms. The Bat has so much work and yet he found time for her. She needed to use it.

“Help me find something about it, please.”

“I don’t have time for things like that.”

“I know. But here’s the deal. If you help me, I will stop killing in your city.”

“In my city…”

“I am not giving up my job. I will just not cause you any trouble. What do you say?”

Gunshots were heard from dark streets.

“I have work to do,” Batman said and jumped off.

‘So do I,’ thought Miranda and left by stairs.

***

Contracts were interesting things. They found their way to her through most curious paths. When it was crime bosses it was common, they just spread the word among themselves. But then there were those who found her through comments on deep dark web, or by hearsay, and one lady even claimed her dog sniffed Miranda out.

And then there were approaches. “Please, kill my husband and make it look like an accident.” “My girlfriend cheated on me. Make her suffer.” “My wives are annoying, please, shut them for good. Quickly.”

Miranda didn’t get sick pleasure from torturing. It was just part of her job. She did it with no emotions, it was required of her. Jut like a dentist taking out rotten tooth.

Camilla Hutchinson was supposed to die today but not until she heard about what she’s done. Capturing her was easy. Miranda followed her home, knocked her out and tied her to a chair.

“Do you know what you have done?” asked Miranda. She never took her scarf off when with victims. You never know what can happen. Don’t show your face even to the dead people.

Camilla, unable to speak through gag, shook her head. Tears were falling from her eyes, face wet and red.

“You ran the red lights. You killed a whole family.”

Camilla sobbed.

“When you kill whole family, you need to make sure nobody is left to despise you.”

Camilla sniffed, a bubble formed at her nose.

“You left someone alive to mourn. And they want you to die.”

Her eyes begged for mercy. Her mouth couldn’t say the words. She struggled against the ropes when Miranda took out knife. She didn’t prolong it. No torture was required here, just the information.

She cut the woman’s throat. Blood spurted out, Camilla tried to get out of ropes, but her body went limp after few seconds. The blood slowly stopped and only dripped in small droplets.

Miranda cleaned the knife on Camilla’s clothes and left the flat as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t make the house into cemetery. She took down her scarf, let her hair free and put on a sweater.

From Banshee to Miranda.

From murderer to toy shop owner.

Another night, another job done. Or so she thought. After two streets she realized the creeping feeling on the back of her neck.

Someone followed her. A man, she realized. He wore a cloak big enough to hide any weapon in it. He was too far to get detail of his face in the dark. But she was sure he was after her. Was it a policeman in disguise? Or was he planning to kill her?

She found an alley. She took a long look at the man and walked into the dark. If he is a policeman, he won’t follow her. If he is something else, she won’t ask questions.

Miranda hid in the shadows. She waited patiently, she used to be able to stand hours without moving. Her master formed her into the calmest person in the world. The League ate her already limited emotions one by one. Now she tried to get them back, but the training never went away.

The man walked in the alley. His face turned visibly confused. For him, Miranda has just vanished.

She threw a bell on the opposite side of the alley.

 _Ding_.

The man turned.

She stepped from the shadows and stabbed him in the neck.

No questions asked. She didn’t care. He fell, pool of blood forming under him. Miranda looked at him closely, she didn’t recognize him. She smirked excited. Who could hunt her?

 _Ding_ sounded as someone kicked her bell by accident.

Miranda jumped on her feet. This movement saved her life as a woman shot at her. Where just a second ago was Miranda’s head now was only her flank.

Miranda shouted in surprise and pain. The instinct took over. She threw the knife, hit the woman to the face. Then she caught the wound. Bleeding. Hurting like three hells.

“Fuck,” she stumbled. She grabbed the bell, the knife, and headed away. Too far from home. Hospital was not an option and the wound kept bleeding hard. She needed to get somewhere to fix this.

Someone ordered a hit on her and nearly got her. Pulsing pain shot from the wound to her body. The cold was getting worse. Too much blood lost. If she doesn’t fix this soon, she will bleed out. She needed privacy.

“Sloppy,” commented her imaginary master.

Where to go? She trudged along not knowing where she will end up. Her vision was getting blurry, when she noticed familiar street.

“Ah,” she commented weakly. “To hell with it.”

***

Mrs. Collins was a brilliant secretary and nurse. She lived in Gotham her whole life so she knew when to keep to herself. She was also always the first one in the office. Jonathan got her call and went straight there leaving his Arkham research for later.

“Just found her here,” she told him. “Didn’t want to call the ambulance just yet. She is one of yours.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins. Please cancel all today’s appointments and take the day off.”

“Very well, doctor. If you need something, just call.”

Miranda lay on the floor covered in her own blood. It looked like she burned a wound on her flank. Bullet. She broke in through the window, patched herself roughly and collapsed. Her skin was shite, she lost a lot of blood but transfusion wasn’t necessary yet.

“That’s not what I meant by worse,” he mumbled. He opened a safe, took out first aid and few of his chemicals. Miranda was out cold, he made sure to take her weapons away. He didn’t need her to wake up and blow his brain out.

He cleaned the wound. The bullet was still inside, and it seemed to miss any organs. Miranda was lucky. She will be up and running in no time.

Jonathan considered his next step. The bullet needs to go out. He could do it, but all his equipment was at home. He leaned over her and let her breathe in ammonia mixture.

She slowly opened her eyes.

“Good morning,” Jonathan said to her. “You better come with me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Miranda felt like after a week-long party. Sure, she had to walk off even worse before and even now she put up her brave face, but in reality, she just wanted to fall into bed and sleep.

“Would you tell me what happened?” asked her professor Crane. He took her to his house. They had to look ridiculous, if any neighbours have seen them, they had to thought Crane is bringing home drunk woman for sure.

He fixed her. Let her sleep whole day. Just once he attempted to touch the bell. She punched him. Went back to sleep. Now they finally had a chance to talk over a hot tea. He didn’t even have visible bruise. Miranda had to be very weak when she knocked him.

“It’s Gotham. Stray bullet hit me.”

“Please don’t lie. Little honesty should be in place after I saved your cute neck.” Miranda realized she likes his approach. Jonathan was straightforward, didn’t let her fuck around and had enough sass to not sound like a complete posh jerk. Just a jerk.

“Someone hit me,” she explained. “I didn’t ask. I don’t know who. They just want me gone.”

“What are you?”

“An assassin.”

“I figured so much.”

Miranda drank her tea thinking. She didn’t like what she said next, but what the hell. “Thank you for helping.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I think you had plenty of possibilities.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve read about your university research.”

No change in his demeaner or tone of voice. “When?”

“Before I moved here.”

“And you decided to visit me anyways?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t have much to lose. And I’ve dealt with… shady people before. Nobody died during your experiments. They just went completely bonkers.”

“Those are dangers of science. It got out of hand. I am changed man since.”

“Now you are the one lying. What about the wannabe Halloween costume?”

Jonathan smiled a little. Then he intertwined his fingers. “Are you willing to test a medication I have made?”

“After this conversation?” Miranda laughed. “Sure, I guess, I have nothing to lose.”

He nodded. “You say you don’t feel fear. I am going to make you.”

“I doubt it, but you are welcome to try.”

He walked away. Miranda has finished her tea. She wondered why she even agreed to this. She knew it won’t help. Nothing ever helped. No medication can make them go away. Her brain was fried. Maybe Crane will fry it some more. That might help.

And partially she was really interested in feeling again. Anything. Fear would be nice change of pace.

Jonathan returned with his stupid mask on. Miranda noticed his eyes through rough holes. Home-sawed potato sack you would put on dummy at farm. He carried a small vial.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” she said.

And then he opened the vial and out flew gas. Miranda coughed, the smell was terrible. Even rotten eggs are pleasant compared to this. “Damn,” she commented, “use air freshener.”

“What do you see, miss Bradbury?”

Her head started to spin. She looked up. Colours, shapes… The hallucination was there. It seemed so real. Scarecrow’s face was burning, heated wax fell from it on the ground. She felt the heat as if her skin was burning. His voice sounded like screeching.

But the feeling of fear wasn’t there. Her sensors were overloaded, her brain wanted to shut down, her flank hurt, and the pain spread slowly through the whole stomach.

“You look wild, burning,” she said. She looked around the room and yelped. There! The ghosts! Shadows, standing, waiting!

“What is it?” asked the burning man.

Miranda didn’t answer right away. It was weird. She looked in their dark faces. There were no details and yet she remembered perfectly. The grimaces of pain and death. Miranda didn’t see them go. But that didn’t stop her imagination. Dying in an instant, took away, crushed by rubble, expressions of hate aimed right at her. She tensed, expecting them to get her. Choke her, kill her, take her among them.

“They are here,” she whispered as if the ghosts couldn’t read her mind. “But they are not real.”

“No, they aren’t,” agreed the burning Crane.

“You don’t get it,” she continued silently. “The feeling… it isn’t… I have the bell.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “It’s not them. Not really.”

She smelled the rot again. The pain increased and spinning worsened. The hallucinations got crazy. The shapes rotated all over the place changing into fractals, colours burned her eyes. She though she will puke.

No fear, just disgust.

She started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Miranda?”

“It’s nothing,” she explained laughing. “I’m just high.”

***

The wound was healed. It took a week of doing nothing and few days of hating herself for doing things that hurt her.

Miranda was at Crane’s place every day. Only result of his experiments was constant headache and weird taste in her mouth. Drugs gave her symptoms but not feelings. She trembled – without fear. She cried – without sadness. Nothing helped. She didn’t feel different. When she took the charm down, she was still dying.

She was losing hope. She had fun, yes, she actually liked visiting the weird doctor. She loved looking in his eyes and catching sparks of excitement in his otherwise cold demeanour. The small talks he tried to avoid also cheered her. But what’s that good for? She wasn’t getting better. Or worse. The status quo was driving her insane.

And the random shadows… She thought the hit continued but every time she ran to face them… nothing.

She was a lost cause.

“I am a lost cause.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Jonathan.

“You can’t help me.”

Jonathan stopped looking at a new tincture and raised his eyebrows. “I think I can. You just need to be patient.”

“No,” she disagreed. “It’s impossible.”

“No wonder you don’t get better. You give up right away.”

Miranda sighed annoyed. “Let’s stop this. You can’t help me.”

He started to look visibly upset. She hasn’t seen him like that yet. Glimpse of negative emotions here and there, but until this point none of them were real anger.

“I can help. There are many ways…”

“Useless.”

“What did you say?” he raised his voice. Miranda blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect reaction like this about something as silly as research.

“I said…”

“I heard you!” he snapped. “You shouldn’t have come if you think I am useless.”

“I…”

“Crazy professor with crazy ideas, that’s what you think?!”

Miranda didn’t say anything. She felt attacked but at the same time tiny silent voice in her head told her the outburst was not aimed at her. You cannot argue against that.

“Let me remind you I could have killed you. Am I useless? Lanky, stupid Crane? You should thank me for sparing you!” His face was red from anger, his eyes weirdly distant. He didn’t argue with her. But she had about enough.

“I think you also need professional help, Crane.”

“You bitch!” He jumped on his feet a tried to hit her. She expected that. Caught his wrist, bended his arm. He screamed, more from annoyance than pain. With a little kick under his knee she made him fall on his knees. Pacified, he tried to wiggle away but she stopped him. Grabbed him by hair.

“No, you don’t, you crazy bastard,” she told him. “I don’t know what your problem is but consider our cooperation over.”

“You will be sorry, Miranda.”

“Oh, spare me the theatrics,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ve decided not to snap your neck. Who should be grateful now?”

Jonathan grinded his teeth but said nothing.

“Good boy.” She let go of him, took her bag. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Burn in hell.”

“See ya there.”

She left, feeling weirdly bummed. It wasn’t his behaviour that got to her. No, it was… She didn’t think he can help her. But she really enjoyed their weird talks. When was the last time she could have been open to someone? _Yeah, I kill people. I like it. No, I don’t have insurance, can you get that as a murderer? Sure, I will take new meds, doc._

“Fuck you,” she mumbled.

At the lamp stood a shadow. She walked to it and realized it was only her eyes playing tricks again.

***

At home Miranda found an envelope on the table. She weighted it in her hand, thinking. Nobody had access to her place. This might be a trap. Or the information she wanted.

Who cares if she blows up?

She opened it. Nothing. Just bunch of papers and a flash drive with little bat symbol on it. She scanned fast through the documents – photos of old texts and transcripts.

“Thanks, B,” she mumbled. She made tea and started to read. The text made her angrier every second. It was nothing useful just description of the ritual and its victims.

Before suicide missions people performed this. They drank and ate together, swore an oath and then tasted each other’s blood. The bound was complete with hallucinogens and night of dancing and sex. Then the ritual was done, and the group went to die while fulfilling their task.

It was said that if someone broke this bond, they became hunted by their former fellows. Most of the survivals died within a year. It was like a countdown going down. If they didn’t kill themselves, it took year and a day, and they just collapsed.

Miranda bit her lip. Year and a day. It fit. That’s when she got her charm.

No mention of anyone surviving as long as her. No mention of anyone healing this madness. Miranda sighed. She didn’t believe in magic. These stories were only that – stories. The guilt made itself into psychosis, that’s all. No magical base.

She set the papers aside. The day started horribly and ended on even worse note. Miranda was tired and annoyed. Sad? She wished. She would let this sink deeper and cry, but it wasn’t possible.

She just didn’t want to die. This was her source of energy. She would do anything to keep herself alive. Degrade herself, betray, beg even. There was no dignity in death! She cannot let them take her, can she?

It made her remember. She didn’t always feel like this. Training and suffering clouded her mind. Death sounded much better than continuing the way she was. Running away wasn’t an option. Tundra in the middle of nowhere would kill her, if League members didn’t catch her first. Those deaths would be more painful than anything she could inflict on herself.

The knife was the best option.

“Kill yourself? You are crazy, girl. You are too weak to do that,” her master laughed when she found Miranda in her room prepared to end it. “You belong to us, so does your life, you cannot take it and you know it.”

That angered her. They never took her seriously, as if she wasn’t a person. Just a tool.

But fear stopped her hand.

“See,” master laughed.

And then Miranda stabbed herself in the chest.

She regretted it immediately.

‘I don’t wanna die,’ she realized.

“Idiot can’t even kill herself properly.” These words were the first she heard when she woke up. And that’s when she decided to run when she gets a chance.

Fucking ghosts won’t get her! She lived through so much shit, she won’t give up now! She wanted life! To have everything! She might be crazy, she might feel like shit, and nobody can help her, but she needs to get her marbles together and figure out how to fight those fucking ghosts.

“Fuck you,” she snapped at her imaginary master. “Suck a dick.”

***

Next morning was blurry for her. She got ready for work, she went there, she smiled at customers, she was pleasant, she sold some toys. She didn’t feel any of that. Her mind raced in circles. The ritual wasn’t magical. She was just crazy. But if so, why wasn’t she fixable?

Maybe she didn’t want to get fixed. If she felt, she would have to stop killing because she would cry over her victims. If she felt, she would tremble in fear under the idea of losing her charm. Maybe she was content, and she shouldn’t fight it anymore.

The door bell chimed. She smiled to welcome a new customer, but her expression grew cold quickly. Jonathan Crane walked to the counter, bouquet in his hand. Miranda reached under the desk to hold a gun.

“Miss Bradbury,” he started without greeting. “I’ve come to apologize.”

“Apologize?” she repeated.

“Yes, for my behaviour the other day. It wasn’t appropriate and I was out of line.” His expression and tone were sincere. She never heard so much colour in his voice and it took her by surprise. “I hoped you will accept this as a peace offering. And also, invitation for dinner tonight.”

She was speechless. Carefully she looked at the flowers – they looked legit, no poisonous strings attached. Miranda let go of the gun.

“Yes, you were out of line,” she agreed. “I don’t know what memory I awoke in you, but you should know I’ve never meant you when I said useless.”

“I am aware, miss Bradbury. I thought over our conversation and I jumped to conclusion. That’s why I wanted us to talk like two almost sane and almost moral adults.”

That made her smile. “Damaged seek damaged, am I correct? Thank you, professor, I accept your apology and I will gladly sit with you.”

“Brilliant. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be ready for you.”

Jonathan smiled and Miranda wondered whether he understood the raised finger. If he didn’t, it will be one hell of an evening.

Whole day she couldn’t keep eyes of the flowers and she was smiling like an idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the porn chapter

When Miranda dressed up, she wondered whether she is really this easy. Guy drugs you once or twice, calls you a bitch, gives you flowers, and you are ready to sit with him and hope for… what exactly?

_What’s your point, Miranda?_

Fun. She hoped for a little fun in her stupid dull life. She might be dead in few months, she can at least enjoy herself. And if it’s fun with handsome man, who can blame her? Psychotic? Please, she was worse than him. Using her? Yes, so was she.

No blame to pass. Almost sane and almost moral.

Scratches on her chest have already disappeared, she didn’t go with cleavage anyways. Modest Miranda Bradbury, she had image to uphold. And charm to hide. Leaving it in plain sight could tempt the professor to attack again. She wasn’t risking that.

“Unarmed?” reminded master.

“But ready,” opposed Miranda. Jonathan Crane was nothing without his toxins. She didn’t need a weapon.

Miranda laughed to herself. How do people prepare for dates? They sure don’t count weaponry. They count condoms and money! And here she is, thinking, where should she stab him if he tries to drug her again.

_No knives! End of discussion!_

Her phone buzzed. Time to go. She felt overdressed when she saw him. He always wears suit, it’s easy for him to fit in.

“Good evening, Miranda.”

“Professor.”

He looked her over but didn’t say anything. “Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nice place at the town centre, no need to worry.”

She grinned. “Not worried, just curious.”

He held the taxi door open for her. The driver seemed legit. Miranda wasn’t worried, just careful. Almost sane.

But Jonathan Crane didn’t lie. The car stopped in front of nice restaurant she wouldn’t normally go to. Not only was it expensive but also so posh it hurt her eyes after entering.

“Do you come here regularly?” she asked.

“Yes, I did some job for the owner and they treat me with huge discounts.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Not publicly.”

The evening went by fast. They talked about many things – Miranda didn’t realize she has so many hobbies except for killing. Nerd stuff, she would call it. Just nerding and killing, that was Miranda’s jam. Jonathan also surprised her with his interest in old folk tales and poems. He loved to sing. It didn’t fit his serious expression at all.

After food and two glasses of wine she finally asked: “Okay, so what’s your damage?”

He smiled. “You show me yours…”

“Oh, come on, you already know. I kill for money. I am crazy. Next.”

“You never told me how the ghosts started.”

She investigated her wine and played with a glass a little, letting the liquid flow around. “I am way too sober for that. You start.”

Jonathan also drank for that. “To put it simply, my grandma was abusive witch who used fear to control me. I killed her.” Miranda heard anticipation in his voice. She knew the feeling. You let someone see you and you are ready to be judged.

“That’s fucked up. I was only part of suicide pact.”

“I expect you failed.” His interest rose, maybe because he didn’t need to focus on himself anymore.

“Yes, the only one. Hence the ghosts. They blame me for not fulfilling my promise.”

“Interesting.”

“It is, actually. The whole ritual is involved.” She described it and Jonathan listened with open curiosity. “We were supposed to blow this shopping centre that was cover for drug den. And die during it. I just said fuck it and ran. I like my life, no matter how shitty it got.”

“We all need to find our focus,” agreed Jonathan.

“Yours is fear.”

“Which reminds me. Would you like to hear my new theory of how to help you?”

Miranda sighed. “Professor, it’s not worth it.”

“Please, it’s Jonathan. Hear me out.”

She finished her wine and asked for another. Then nodded.

“Thank you. I realize I approached it all wrong.”

“Through your own selfish plans,” she reminded him.

“Yes, that too. However, my plan did involve you awakening and overcoming your fear. Unfortunately, you are way too deep in no emotions land.”

“Poetic.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he smirked. “So, I figured, you need to awake all your emotions. Not just fear. I brought you something.” He put bottle of pills on the table. “These make normal people oversensitive. It overloads your nervous system, makes you twice as sensitive to any perception. I think this might help you get your emotions back partially. It’s my own formula.”

She stared him entertained. He gave back confused look.

“Are you giving me aphrodisiacs?”

Now he blinked surprised. He examined the bottle, frowned and then scoffed amused.

“You are correct, yes.”

Miranda took the bottle and shrugged. “I might test it later. Thank you, Jonathan.”

“Do not thank me. Save it when there are results.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I don’t know what end you are following, but you wouldn’t have to pay attention to me. Neither try to help me.”

“Let’s say I like challenges and I am intrigued.”

“Are you also ready to lose?”

“I don’t accept failure.” He finished his wine. “Do you know where you can find even better alcohol?”

“Where?”

“My place.”

“I actually do know that,” she smiled mischievously.

“Did you snoop around my bar, Miranda?”

“I might have.”

“Then I have nothing to surprise you with.”

***

Jonathan didn’t lie, the alcohol was really good. Another trivia around mysterious professor. He wasn’t into low-quality stuff. Meanwhile Miranda didn’t mind drinking basically clear alcohol. She was able to appreciate fine tastes though.

Their conversation continued and they successfully avoided talking about their problems. Miranda appreciated that. Her life turned around ghosts. She was happy talking about anything else.

“No, really! From all the cities I like Gotham the most. It wakes up my inner Shelley,” she laughed.

“Percy or Mary?”

“Both, but I would probably be the one hiding the organs of my husband.”

The clock was showing almost midnight when she stood up. “I should head home. This was fun.”

“I agree,” said Jonathan looking her over. “We should do this again.”

Miranda nodded ready to turn to the door. She stopped in her steps and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Do you wanna fuck?” she asked.

If she surprised him, he didn’t let is show. “Excuse me?”

“You are looking at me like that all evening. Do you wanna fuck me? Because I would.”

Jonathan smiled. “No, sorry.”

“That’s fine. I’m just not used to hoovering around this like teenagers. Still had fun. See ya.”

“Goodbye Miranda.”

She went to hall and was reaching for a coat, when Jonathan forcefully grabbed her from behind and pinned her to a wall. She yelped by surprise. She moved, elbowed him to solar. Punch was big enough to force him to let her go.

She turned, grabbed him by the coat and pressed him against a wardrobe.

“You fuck,” she hissed.

Jonathan raised his hand in front of her face. Little pop and hiss were heard. From bracelet on his wrist a small cloud of toxin sprayed right into her face. Miranda closed her mouth and eyes, avoiding the mist.

When she looked back at him, his smile disappeared.

“Nose filters, you cunt,” she grinned. “I fucking knew it.” She grabbed his hand and hit it two times against the wardrobe. The bracelet broke. Then she threw Jonathan on the floor, he tried to get away, but one rib kick made him fall on his back. He moaned painfully. Miranda stepped on his neck.

“I am speechless,” she said. “If you wanted to die, you should have said so you crazy fucking bastard! What were you thinking? That I am some naïve bitch that will just let you do this? What did you want to do to me, huh?”

He held her leg, couldn’t breathe neither speak.

“Look at you. That’s what you wanted?” Miranda was pissed. She couldn’t explain why. Maybe because she really wanted this to be just innocent fun and let herself forget Jonathan is bonkers. “Look at you, you pathetic…”

She went silent. She noticed and all was clear now. “You sick…” she mumbled. “Really!? After I asked!” she pointed at his obvious hard on.

She stepped off and Jonathan was finally able to breathe. He coughed hard, holding his neck. His clear attire destroyed, hair messy, his smug gone. Miranda walked a little circle like a lion in the cage.

“I get it,” she laughed and squatted next to him. He didn’t break eye contact, still holding his neck. “You are intimidated by me.”

He frowned. Didn’t say anything.

“That’s what you do, huh, Jonathan? You go after naïve, stupid ones. Drug ‘em, fuck ‘em, use your authority to silence them. Tell me, how many students have you forced your dick in, hm? You are happy when they can’t fight you back, right? You wanna choke them while you cum inside them. Well you chose a wrong girl to try this on. Because I won’t have that.”

She stood up and fought need to kick him one more time.

“Scared of having one awake, are you.” Miranda turned to leave. This time she wasn’t afraid he will jump her. She taught him that lesson.

She put her coat on.

“Miranda, stop,” she heard him say. She grinned amused by his bravery. He dares to… “Look at me.” She turned. Jonathan ran fingers through his hair making worse mess than before. Only his looks showed evidence of her self-defence, his expression was back again. As if nothing happened.

“Undress.”

“What did you say?” she snapped.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He sat in his chair, watching her silently.

_What the fuck is he thinking! He just did that! Can you believe it, Miranda!? Nobody ever had balls to do something like this to you! He tried to drug you and rape you and now he acts all high and mighty! Kill him. Now! Miranda? Miranda, don’t…_

‘Shut up, reason, nobody cares,’ she thought. She threw the coat aside. Dress soon followed despite every sensor in her body telling her not to. Eventually she stood there only the charm on her neck.

“I thought so,” he said and let her guess whether he meant her obedience or scars covering her body. The gunshot wound hasn’t healed properly yet. “Come closer. No, that’s enough.”

Miranda stood two metres away from him. This no contact gave her anticipation. She was still angry but intrigued. Excited even. She will get what she wanted. Fun.

“On your knees,” he demanded, and she followed. She wondered where this will go. How far is he willing to take it? His excitement was still showing even though you wouldn’t read it from his face. She hoped for a night with him, just imagined it differently. _Can’t get everything you want, Miranda._

“Look at yourself,” he scoffed awaking her anger again. “Intimidated by you? Don’t make me laugh. You are utterly boring and uninteresting.”

_That motherfucking smug bastard…_

“Boring even naked. Follows orders like some bitch. I am sure the students are better fucks than you. They are at least after something, so they try. You are just dull idiot who thinks she can throw a punch, so she is scary. No, you are not. You are on par with high school bully. Pathetic.”

Miranda grinded her teeth, face red. She was ready to jump on her feet and finish this once and for all. How dares he? Such humiliation!

“Angry, are we?” he smiled darkly. “There is the door.”

Miranda held her fists tight and didn’t break eye contact.

“Very well,” Jonathan kept smiling, “make me interested.”

Miranda grew uncomfortable. What? How? She tucked her hair behind her ears buying some time. No, being obscene wouldn’t work on him. They took it this far, Miranda won’t ruin the fun by going against the tide. She touched one of her scars instead. It ran along her ribs under her breast. “I have horrible taste in men, you could have noticed. My last boyfriend made me scream all night. The best I’ve ever had. He was also hidden serial killer turned on by stabbing. That I realized later. But he stabbed pretty good,” she smiled while running her fingers along the scar. Slowly moved them over the hip.

“Drunken fight. The lady at the bar took care of me. Licked the blood like a goddess. Not only the blood mind you. I get wet just thinking about her.” She didn’t give him the pleasure of touching any important spots, but she started to feel the need to. Red face stayed, anger left for now.

“And back… my back is horrible to look at. Cult whipping and self-flagellation were often. One guy loved to tear your clothes down and stuck his dick in you while he was torturing you. I told him no but looked forward to every meeting.”

Jonathan didn’t move a muscle. “And that one?”

Right between her breasts. Even now it was obvious stab wound. She caressed it in silence, looking for words. “It is… a sign.” She never thought about it. “That I am alive despite my best efforts not to be.”

“You didn’t do very good job,” he smirked.

“Today I’d beg you different.”

“Interesting,” he commented. “Do you feel proud of being a whore?”

“I feel proud of living as much as my problems allow me. I am sure you understand that, Jonathan.”

“It’s professor to you.”

She fell silent, her body unsure of what it wants. It wanted him, the blood flowed into her private parts making them hot and pulsing with need. But she also wanted to beat him where he sat to a bloody pulp. “Fine, professor,” she said slowly. “What is it then? Am I worthy of your attention?”

Jonathan waited for a minute letting her boil in silence. Judging her, investigating her body thoroughly as if she was some sort of meat on display. Her discomfort rose. Her needs too. ‘Say something,” she thought. ‘Anything! Call me a whore again!’

“I think,” said Jonathan finally and tone of his voice trembled her to the bone, “that if you ask very nicely, I will let you suck my cock.”

Miranda gasped and bit her lip. Showing him her anticipation like that was stupid. She shouldn’t have done that. Now he waited and she couldn’t deliver. Her mind wanted to talk so badly, but the words just wouldn’t come out of her mouth. ‘I have a shame after all,’ she realized amused.

“You want me to beg for goods I can’t even see?”

He kept smiling. The spark in his eyes grew with her defiance. “A bit picky for a concubine.”

“I am worth the money.”

Miranda wasn’t willing to budge, and Jonathan knew that. He didn’t bother with more words. He unzipped his pants and took his penis out. His erection made it stood waiting for action. He didn’t remove any of his clothing. Just a man in a suit with his dick out. Miranda felt her lower body tingle. She wanted this. Shame be damned.

“Please, let me do it,” she said eyes tracing the carpet.

“You aren’t even trying, Miranda.”

Damn his demands. How could she do this with a straight face? She couldn’t even look him in the eyes!

“Please, let me suck your dick.”

“No, I don’t think you want this bad enough.”

Her chest tightened as she rose her head. She had to look so desperate and pathetic and Jonathan loved it the damn bastard. And so did she, as the nervous feeling she didn’t have in years overcame her.

“Please, professor Crane, I want to suck your dick. However long you please. Let me do it.”

Jonathan left her in silence again as if he thought about her plea. As if he calculated whether she really was worth it. She waited for his words like nervous dog that needs to be given a sign to move. He let her shiver on the ground, embarrassed, red and wet.

“Very well,” he said finally acting like he gave up. “Come here. No. Don’t stand up.”

On all four she crawled to him. She stayed on the ground, Jonathan sitting high like some sort of deity. He enjoyed feeling of superiority, his dick twitched in anticipation.

She really wanted to boil him just like he did to her. Let him wait and show him he is not in charge. But he got to her. She couldn’t wait any longer. Miranda was a hungry animal and needed to be satisfied.

She grabbed his penis and steadied it as she licked the shaft from the bottom to the top. Her tongue tasted the saltiness of precum on the head. Jonathan was eyeing her, his breath not so calm anymore. She licked him more, down, up, making his cock wet and slippery. Then finally she took it in one go, all at once. Jonathan gasped and she felt victorious she made him do it. She wanted him to lose it just like she did.

Down and up, whole member in her mouth. Miranda was gasping for air after a while, her throat stiff, but she loved doing this. The taste was so wrong and so right. Saltiness and smell of a man.

Miranda let go for a while to calm her throat, she continued to rub his penis with hands. He was still watching, mouth just slightly open. She smiled happy for getting to him slowly but surely. He will be hers.

Miranda kept licking and sucking, occasional gasp motivated her to go faster and deeper. She wished he grabbed her hair and forced her down, just the thought of the act left her trembling. But he kept his hands on the chair.

“Enough,” Jonathan said after a while. Miranda stopped. “You are pretty good when you have your mouth shut.”

She decided to take it as a compliment. He grabbed her by a chin and made her stand up. Then he led her to sit on his lap. He didn’t go in yet. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “No touching,” he warned her. She grabbed the chair behind him instead putting her breasts close to his face. “That’s better.”

Jonathan slowly ran his hands over her body. He touched the scars first, he was very careful when caressing her collar bone, so he doesn’t awake overprotective charm beast. She shivered when he touched her neck, and she leaned in closer, but his hands slid down to her breast. He playfully pinched her nipples making her moan a bit.

Then his fingers ran lower and found a way to her crotch. Miranda bit her lip again as he slipped in her. “Look at me,” he demanded as he moved his fingers in and out at her clitoris and back in again. She tried, but she couldn’t take the feeling and look of his cold blue eyes. Her sight always wandered somewhere else with each pulse of pleasure.

“At me,” he repeated and turned her head to face him. The sensation was too much. The feeling of him in her made her crazy and his pleased face…

“Fuck me,” she moaned.

“No.”

“Please, just, ah… Professor, please, I beg you.”

“I don’t think I will yet,” he said with a grin. She started to tremble even more, she was so close to finish when he took the hand away.

“No,” she begged. He left her tense, on a brink of orgasm, her pussy pulsing and dripping, wishing to be full of his cock.

He held the wet hand in front of her. No words to be said. She started licking his finger, one after the other tasting herself.

“Good girl, Miranda,” he said softly and her heart jumped on the praise. She sucked his thumb and felt him comforting himself.

She moaned loudly finger still in her mouth as he thrusted in her. She felt him filling her. She supported herself on the chair and began to move on him. In one rhythm, in, out, she wished to scream loudly but he held her mouth shut. It felt wonderful, it was all she needed. So good. So full. So forceful.

He grabbed her hip with the other hand and forced her down even deeper. She moaned again. The hand on her face made her helpless. She wanted to shout be he had control of everything. Fucking her hard. God. Any second now. Any…

Muffled scream of pleasure made him go faster. Her insides started so spasm and she felt everything. Every nerve in her body made her flinch and only Jonathan held her in place. He groaned loudly as he came inside her at the same time.

Still trembling he finally freed her mouth. She couldn’t talk, the adrenaline was running through her, she still felt Jonathan’s dick inside her squirming. She enjoyed the moment with a pleased smile, lightheaded and tired.

Small movement stopped it.

“Hands where I can feel them, Jonathan,” she warned him.

He smirked and grabbed her breasts again.

“Attentive, aren’t you?”

“Just let me have this, you freak.”

He caressed her cheek and then brought her down for a kiss. She tightened in surprise. Strange feeling filled her as they kissed for a moment. Then he let go.

“Get off me.”

“I think your suit is ruined.”

“I will get that cleaned.”

She looked him in the eyes one last time. She let go of the chair and then she slapped him hard.

“That’s for trying to drug me again.” Then she finally stood up, he slid out of her. Her thighs were wet. This was great evening.

He was proper faster than her. He watched her getting dressed without comments. She wanted to say million things, but she better bit her tongue. Not that it would ruin a moment. Just too many words were said today.

“I apologize,” said Jonathan.

“Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it.”

“You are right. I don’t. I still want to experiment on you.”

“You are freak, Jonathan. I like that. See you around.”

“Don’t forget to take your medicine,” he laughed sincerely.

“Suck it,” she replied and left.

She had dreams of Scarecrow fucking her numb whole night.


	6. Chapter 6

Banshee had enough of everyone’s shit. It was a week since the wild night. She’s seen Jonathan two times since. They talked about what happened thoroughly. They were adults and as adults they faced the new relationship. First time they met in his office for an appointment. So, they talked hard on the table. The other day he visited her in the shop. So, they also talked through and through in the backroom.

Always so weird. He didn’t want her to touch him and he never took any piece of clothing off. He had issues.

And then there were these motherfuckers. It was clear the hunt wasn’t over, but now they came hard as if the bounty doubled. She fended of three just this week.

“Tell me who sent you,” she demanded dangling a man of the roof. She held him by his shirt over the edge. One wrong move and they will both fly down and pancake on the pavement.

He whimpered but didn’t say anything.

“Talk, or you are flying off here!”

“I don’t know! They never told us who they are!”

“Bye then.”

“No, please!!”

“Banshee, stop.”

And now this jerk tried to ruin her day too! Why did she ever thought she liked Gotham? This was a hellhole that painted a target on her back and sent the Bat to stop her from scratching it off.

“This is self-defence,” she said and looked at Batman. “You can’t blame me for that.”

“Let him go.”

“Not until I know who made bounty on me!”

“I don’t know, please, it’s online!” cried the man. His face was red and wet. Only thing missing was him calling for his mommy.

“Where?”

“The Gotham bounty.”

“Are you serious? You have a page for that?” Banshee turned to Batman.

“Not that I know of,” he said.

“Now you do,” she snapped. “One has to be a hacker in this fucking town.” She tucked the man in and let him go. He stumbled on his legs and ran as fast as he could. Two shadow figures let him pass through them and disappeared in puff of smoke.

Oh, yeah, the shadow figures were prominent now. She felt them breathing on her neck. That also pissed her off.

“Leave me alone. I didn’t kill anyone,” she hushed the Bat.

“I know. I wanted to talk to you about your contact with Jonathan Crane.”

“You are a voyeur now, great.”

“He’s a dangerous man, Miranda. You shouldn’t get close to him.”

“So am I. Next?”

“I’ve seen this before. I don’t want you to fall in the trap of wanting to change him.”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” she shouted throwing her arms in the air. Metropolis sounded great. Calm city, no targets, no Batshrinks to assume what she thinks or does. No crazy guys and no… who is she kidding, the shadows will follow. “I am not stupid, B. He is not fixable. Just like me. Or you. None of us gets better, that’s why we do what we do!”

He went silent and changed the subject. “About the ritual…”

“It went nowhere.”

“I think it cleared many things.”

“Magic doesn’t exist. I am just schizo or something.”

“Magic is real, Miranda. In this world it shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Are you finished? I have forums to find.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Everyone tries to help, and nobody asks if I want it. I don’t. Get off my back.”

She stomped away like a small angry child. She wanted to blame her mood on a moon, or the period, or the fact she didn’t sleep two nights. She couldn’t. She was angry at her incompetence to find the fucker trying to kill her.

And maybe also Jonathan.

Fuck it all.

She just wanted to sleep.

***

That’s how Jonathan found her. Bend over her laptop, hell in her eyes, typing furiously a step away from punching the keyboard.

“Is this how you scare off customers?” he asked.

She nearly killed him with her stare. “Get out. Now.”

“That’s no way to greet guests.”

“I sweat to god, Jonathan, leave now. I have no control,” she snapped at him.

“Yes, I noticed. I will leave the talk for later.”

She turned her attention back to the laptop, hitting enter so hard it was a miracle it didn’t jump out.

“What are you searching?”

“Will you just shut up?”

Jonathan was not phased. He came here with semi-good intentions. Now she ruined it. She was confrontational before, but this was another level. He didn’t know what stressed her that much, but he hated this. Raw anger was disgusting and made his skin crawl. He despised the lack of self-control. Grandma used to be angry a lot, but never for the reason she claimed. And it was Jonathan who got hit by the fury.

That’s why he didn’t bother listening to Miranda. Her fury hurt, but not as deep as grandma’s.

He walked around the counter and looked over her shoulder. She stiffened. Jonathan would take a punch if necessary.

“What do you need bounty for?”

“None of your business.”

“This is not how you look for it,” he commented. “Let me.”

She watched his fingers run on the keyboard. He knew the site very well. He got paid many times through this and he also found many henchmen there. People in Gotham were willing to take money for anything.

“What are you looking for?”

She stared at him enraged.

“I am trying to help, Miranda.”

She scoffed and folded her arms on her chest.

“I wanna know who’s trying to kill me.”

So that’s what’s been eating her out. For a minute he thought he had something to do with this. Shame, he didn’t left much impact on her. “Let me see.”

He ran through the website. “You cannot find names here, just information. But I know a guy who knows a gal… you know how it is. Hm, the bounty on you is solid. I would be interested if I didn’t know better.”

“Do you ever get tired of listening to yourself?”

“Sometimes. I will get the name for you.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He closed the laptop and turned to her. “You need sleep.”

“I am…”

“Doctor’s order.”

“That bad, huh?”

Yeah, she really looked exhausted. Black circles under her eyes and tremble in one hand. She broke herself to avoid breaking herself. He wondered whether the bounty was only thing that bothered her, but he didn’t ask. She will spill the beans eventually, she had talent for going straight to the point.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I cannot sleep, they…”

“Nobody will hurt you, I’ll take care of it.”

“Unless you do it.”

He sighed. He was a fiend. Fucked up in the head. But he wasn’t this. Using visible weakness was tempting but breaking them strong had more appeal. He wanted to help. He liked her fighting spirit, not this.

“You don’t need to trust me. But you do need sleep.”

Miranda shook uncomfortably and surrendered. “Fine. I will go home and have a rest. Your out of character care convinced me.”

“Let me take you there.”

She looked at him resignation in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

That’s how he ended up sitting on her couch, reading her disturbing collection of slushy romance and watching her over as she collapsed on her bed with silent ding.

***

This was embarrassing. Miranda got up early in the morning feeling much better just to find Jonathan sleeping in her living room. Good way to get them both killed, but also very awkward because she didn’t really believe he will stay there.

He looked almost innocent.

Why is everything in her life an almost?

Silently she moved to the kitchen to prepare quick breakfast for both. She tried to be as silent as possible but when she entered living room Jonathan was already up. Miranda didn’t know what to say so she just put the plate down.

“Do you feel better?” he asked after a minute has passed without a word.

“Yes,” she warmed her hands on a cup of tea. “Thank you, Jonathan. I snapped.”

“Do you do that often?”

“Yeah, I do. Some small shit goes wrong, I get angry and I start to make mistakes. That’s why I move places so often.”

He nodded. “Have you taken the pills I gave you?”

“No.” He left that without comment, but Miranda felt need to defend her decision. Did it really matter what he thinks? “I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either,” he agreed, “and we shouldn’t.”

This mutual agreement calmed her a little. They understood each other. “I owe you one.”

“You shouldn’t say that, or I will take you seriously.”

“You are right. I will owe you one if you get me the name.”

Jonathan smiled amused. “Miss Bradbury, we just talked about trust.”

“Business works differently.”

“You do not have sex with your business partners.”

“Says who?” she laughed, and he raised his eyebrows. “I’m just kidding. Maybe.”

“Anyways,” he continued with coldness in his voice – just a bit, she would almost miss it. “I will see what I can do. You take care of yourself, Miranda. And take your meds.”

“Sure, doc.”

***

Terry Borrows entered their shitty apartment with even shittier mood. Another day, another failed job hunt.

“I’m sorry, your crime record speaks against you.”

“Here you write you can’t stand loud noises. This work position is not for you.”

“Sorry, mate, not enough experience.”

“Are you Mexican?”

“We don’t hire killers.”

Terry collapsed in the armchair and sighed in frustration. You witness one fucking murder and you are fucked! You have to lower yourself to work for crime lords. Terry didn’t want to. They wanted some normal work without heavy machinery.

But no, the police still suspected them, so now they were unemployed, in debt and with eviction note on the table.

“Fuck this,” Terry said to the room. “Fuck it all!”

“You won’t suffer for long,” said a voice.

Terry jumped on their feet and turned around. Nobody was there. What? They searched the room with their eyes. Empty.

“Who said that?!”

Feeling of being watched crawled on their back. The room was lit and nobody else was there. Terry shook scared. They had to be hearing things. Nothing happened. Everything is fine.

They finally calmed down a bit although the tight chest, bound by nervousness, stayed. They’ll make coffee, and all will be fine.

_Ding._

Terry froze.

Knife appeared on their neck and Terry screamed. Hand held their mouth.

“You do not fuck with death ghost, haven’t you heard, Terry?” whispered Banshee behind them. Terry whimpered ready for a pain and the end. “When you hear her come, you die.”

Tears ran on their face.

“I am a curious ghost, you know? I will let you talk. But you scream once and you die, Terry, understand?”

They nodded carefully not to cut their neck. Tight grip disappeared and a shove sent them on the ground. Terry turned. Over them stood a woman with scarf. The same one they’ve seen weeks back.

“Please, I…”

“Terry Borrows,” she said their name as if she was tasting it. “Who are you? You are not the League, or you’d find me right away. I don’t know you. Why do you want me dead?”

Terry felt their body tremble to the bone, but they felt like they are not there. The body wasn’t theirs. They focused only on her. She found them. She will kill them. Like she did to that guy before. No mercy. Their damn shitty life will be over.

“Speak!” she commanded.

Terry yelped and then unsure of what to say, tears started to pour from their eyes. The woman stood there, waiting, her stare ready to give them heart attack. Terry opened mouth several times, but shock wouldn’t let them speak so they looked like a fish out of water gasping for air.

Banshee put the knife to other hand and took out a gun.

“Please!” Terry finally managed. “I… I…” They couldn’t say it. She will kill them. “You…”

“Yes?”

“You ruined my life. Everyone… Everyone think I killed that guy! I got fired! The bill are crazy!”

“So you have money to pay for bounty and not for life, hm?”

Terry fell silent. How could they explain they got drunk and in revenge fit put out the bounty? And when they sobered up, they decided to leave it there and decided to run away or die trying without paying it?

“Sob story,” commented Banshee. “Your life turned bad, so you want to blame someone. I don’t do those. You fucked with wrong person.”

Terry closed their eyes.

“Oh no, not so easy. You take down the bounty first.”

“I can’t…”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t do it from here. I can’t…”

Banshee frowned. Then she hid her gun and knife.

“You might have bought a day. Pull down the bounty. Don’t try to run. I will find you. I will…” just for a second she turned her gaze to corner and shook her head. “I will hunt you down. You better do what I say, and I might feel generous.”

Terry nodded fast.

“I will find you later.”

Terry sobbed a bit and their vision blurred. When they cleared the tears from their eyes, Banshee was gone.

***

Visiting Jonathan now was a lottery. Before she didn’t know what to expect but the options were limited. Now they grew and Miranda never knew what to prepare for. But what he started today, she wouldn’t foretold at all.

“We need to talk.”

She nearly choked on her drink. Talk? Now? Really? She took him for the type that will do things and when they stop being to his liking, he will just stop. No need to talk there.

“About what?” she cleared her throat.

“There are more things. Let me start with the simplest one. Did you find them?”

“Terry? Yes,” she nodded. “I have yet to kill them, but the bounty is off. For now.”

“I took you for hit first, ask question later kind of woman.”

“It depends. I needed to cancel the bounty. Terry doesn’t really bother me. Plus, I am sucker for helping poor. Kill, earn money, donate to charity sort of thing. Terry is in bad place. I might reconsider. I will see.”

“Interesting.”

“You are starting to scare me now with these comments.”

“Nervous, are you?”

“I didn’t expect any serious talks. What’s next?”

Jonathan smiled a little. “What are we doing?”

“You tell me. I don’t mind continuing with this. But I feel there is more in the air. I just don’t know what.”

“Can you even feel attachment, Miranda? Affection?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“I try not to.”

The words were said. They left her a lot to think about. Could she like him? Could she replace the common feeling she lacked with something? Loyalty maybe? Damn him and his stupid mind games. She liked him more when he fucked her in the backroom. No questions, no talks.

“Let’s not push anything, Jonathan. It’s not worth it.”

“I agree.”

Relief. Yes, it’s better not to overthink. Just let it flow, it will sort itself out eventually.

“Last thing.” He didn’t even stop to think. “You should take the pills.”

Miranda never opened the bottle. Reason stopped her. Possible consequences too. Jonathan could have lied. He wouldn’t poison her, just mess her up _. Miranda, you wanted that, remember?_ But right now, that was low on her list. Shadows occupied the first five positions and she worried drugs would only worsen them.

“I don’t know what they will do,” she avoided saying the truth.

“I told you. They can awake your emotions.” He poured another drink just to put his hands to work. “Don’t you want that?”

Again, that weird idea she had – he also avoided something. Didn’t they just agree to let it flow? Damn him. “Maybe. But are you telling the truth? Remember the trust?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have a suggestion.”

“Your suggestions always end up either in a fight or sex.”

“I would like to avoid both tonight.”

“Now I am curious,” she laughed.

“I’ll take it first.”

She fell silent. That was… unexpected. She never heard of psychiatrist just suggesting that. Then again, she never fucked her shrinks. This was also the first time she has became a pet project. Somehow she felt she needs to accept just to make him happy. And to bring herself to trust him. Enforce the bound.

She would rather go for that fuck now.

_Aaaagh, think, Miranda! Is this a game again? What will be the consequences? Can you even afford consequences when the ghosts are following?_

“Are you okay taking your own medicine?” she asked.

“I test it on myself sometimes when I am sure there are no side effects. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have suggested it. I want you to trust the meds. Not just my word.”

“Okay. I think I would like that.”

“I just have to warn you. I talk way too much when drugged,” he joked.

“All you say will be used against you hundred percent. Just so you know the risk.”

“It’s worth it.”

“Enough of this sentiment,” she grinned with arms folded. It made her think, she hated that. She felt she could get attached, if the ghosts just left her alone. “I still have them, if you want to do it now.”

“Are you just carrying them around?”

“Have you never heard of woman’s purse?”

“And its never-ending space?”

“Yes!”

Jonathan laughed a little. “Yes, I am willing.”

Miranda was still unsure, but she fetched the medication. Questions ran through her head. Manipulation was one of them. _Be wary of the good doctor. The good doctor is a freak._ Shadows hoovered at the back of the room and silently agreed.

She needs them gone!

Jonathan accepted the bottle and just took one pill. So simple. Hard evidence that he didn’t give her anything bad. He handed her the bottle back.

“Did you test this one before?” Miranda asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you keep composure?”

“Partially. It doesn’t change your thinking, it just mixes your emotions. Often positively but not always.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t talk for a while. Miranda was waiting for anything to happen. Jonathan just rested in his chair. At one point he frowned and clenched his fists, but that was it.

“You make it look easy,” said Miranda.

“It’s just uncomfortable since you are watching.”

“I noticed. You don’t like people, do you?”

“Are you using the talking against me, Miranda?”

“Yes,” she grinned. “Spill the beans, Jonathan.”

He scoffed. “No, I don’t like people. They always turn on you, always hate you. There is no good. All is just façade helping them to get something from you.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I never met anyone who wouldn’t use me. Did you?”

“I am a tool.”

“See,” he said victoriously.

“Is that…” she waved her hand a bit. Jonathan gave her weird stare, but the ghost disappeared. “Why you don’t like being touched?”

Jonathan rested his head on his hand. “No, you misunderstood. I like getting touched just like any other man.”

“So, what’s the deal?”

He really tried to hold himself together but little tick here and there and foot tapping gave away his rising emotions. Annoyance? Excitement? She couldn’t tell.

“My grandma was a fanatic. Religious zealot. She…” he reached for a glass and drank away the sore throat. “When she didn’t like something, she decided to shun the devil away.”

Jonathan fell silent, nervous ticks more often. He avoided eye contact. That was a first. He always held it over her like a weapon and now he was looking anywhere but at her.

“She’d close me in the old church. And the crows there would attack me. She trained them like dogs. Pecked meat of the body.”

Now it was her who shivered.

“So,” she said, “lanky and scarred.”

He raised his eyes with spark of anger.

“That’s what you don’t like. Being seen,” she concluded. “I just thought you were kinky. You are not really into unconscious ladies.”

“No.”

“You could just turn off the light.”

“The feel is still there. You can recognize the scars by touching them.”

Miranda scratched her head awkwardly. “You go to great lengths just to hide that. Just… it’s all fucked up, sorry.”

He shrugged but looked out of windows. Miranda felt like shit. She opened the can of worms and now they were crawling everywhere, and she tried to pick them one by one. _Say something, girl. Can’t you see this is your only chance to pry?_

“Are you okay, Jonathan?”

“No,” he answered.

“I will leave you alone.”

She was ready to leave. “No, please, stay,” he stopped her and reached his hand to her. She hesitated for a second. They cannot be saved. They cannot be changed. Nothing in this world will fix whatever they became and why they became it didn’t matter.

She just sat next to him, held his hand and let him suffer in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the other porn chapter

Terry awkwardly looked around. They didn’t imagine this. Torture chamber? Sure. Dark cellar with horrible lighting? Filthy factory where chemicals eat the skin off your hands. That all when the scary lady told them to go to this address.

“Mum! Look at that elephant! It’s huuuuge!”

Terry definitely didn’t imagine a toyshop.

“Kids are sometimes loud, can you deal with that?”

“Uh… I… If I can rest for a bit after, yeah?”

They knew. The little ding gave it away, but instead of the scary lady there was the owner who could get lost in the crowd. She smiled at them when they entered. Are they in wonderland? Have they died already?

“I am looking for an assistant. The work is not hard. You sell toys, you listen to little devils babble a bit, and when someone scary comes in, you call me.”

Terry was speechless. They came here to die. Instead, Banshee was offering them a job?

“I…”

“Confused, are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I don’t appreciate what you did, but I’ve done worse when pissed off. I’m giving you a chance. And the pay check is not half bad.” She handed them a paper. Terry gasped over the amount. That was not payment for a shop assistant!

“What’s the catch?”

“You keep your mouth shut if you see something weird.”

“Like Banshee?”

“Exactly. It’s Miranda, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

So, Terry got a job. When they felt overwhelmed, they just hid in backroom for a minute watching the shop on cameras. They sold toys, joked with customers and all the time they thought about one thing only.

This will probably bite them in the ass later.

***

Miranda had a plan this time. When she got to Jonathan’s place, she started without proper hello: “I need help.”

“That’s new,” answered Jonathan. She squeezed past him into the living room, put the bag down and turned to him.

“I want to do a little experiment on myself and I need your help.”

“That’s usually what I say,” he commented with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. That’s why you’ll help me, right?” she grinned.

“What do you need?”

“The drugs you gave me the first time around. And your backup.”

Jonathan grimaced thinking. “What are you up to?”

“It’s complicated. I want to take down the charm and I need you to put it back if I collapse.”

“Really?” Jonathan sounded surprised. She couldn’t blame him, she just expected he will be more excited.

“You can make notes, you wanted to rip that thing off since day one. I am sure you want to see this.” Miranda played the science string. She was sure he will jump at the plan immediately, but he kept stalling.

“Why the drugs? What do you want to find out?”

Miranda sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I am not sure if it will work. Please?”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know anyone else. And I think you don’t want me dead.”

Jonathan smiled. “Very well, I will help you with this. But after we are done, I want to know why.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Trust, huh?”

“No. This is for me only.”

She really didn’t want to explain herself. It was complicated, she committed several logical fallacies, and everyone would tell her she is crazy and needs to get hospitalized instead of doing this. But she needed to learn about the shadows. She couldn’t do it herself. Miranda took the charm off before, but the ghosts were faster every time and she didn’t believe she can put it back on in time.

“Fine,” said Jonathan not happy. “Let me get the toxin.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“No, I mean it,” she looked him straight in the eyes. “You do this for me, I’ll do for you anything you ask.”

“Have you thought this through?”

“Of course,” Miranda smiled. She knew offering something was the best strategy to shut him up. And it was win-win situation because she really wanted to know for what he will ask.

_Miranda, focus. Ghosts. You can look at the professor later, you horny bitch!_

“Yes, ghosts,” she answered to her thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

“Did I say that out loud? Yeah, um. I’m ghost hunting. That’s all. Can we start before I freak out?”

Jonathan left with thinking expression. She messed up. _You need to stop talking to yourself, Miranda. You sound craaazy. Your shrink will definitely notice._

She got ready. Jonathan found her looking around the room when he came back with his mask and toxin. He didn’t ask what she is doing. She counted ghosts. Her plan was simple. She wanted to know which ones are real.

“Okay,” she said doing a little jump. “Hit me up.”

Jonathan released the toxin. She made sure not to lose sight of the shadows. She breathed in letting the drug take over. In seconds her head started to spin. The room showed signs of decay, as if it was living organism, the smell got strong. Jonathan stood there, his mask full of worms eating the flesh.

Instead of two ghosts there were four.

“Yes. Good. Just show up, you fuckers,” she mumbled. Four shapes that gave her no emotions whatsoever. Even the room made her more disgusted than this. “I’m gonna do it.”

She heard growling instead of an answer but that was fine. Little nervous she reached behind her neck and opened the necklace. As long as she held it everything was fine.

“Take it,” Miranda said her chest tight. She felt a touch.

It hit her like a truck. For the first time ever, she heard them. She screamed and collapsed in on herself. The screeching was tearing her brain apart. She held her ears, muscles tight, eyes closed. It pulsed throughout the room and her whole body. Painful. Like punching over and over. Eyes started tearing.

“No, no, shut up!” she grinded her teeth. “Stop it!”

_Get a grip, woman! Look at them!_

Trembling like a child, head light, room pulsing like her heart faster and faster. The shadows surrounded her, all of them. They reached for her, trying to catch her in their deadly grips. Dripping cold and wet.

Some of them just hoovered calmly with no evil aura. Two of them.

Miranda laughed hysterically.

And fainted.

***

Miranda woke up with horrible headache and distaste in her mouth. She needed shower, to brush her teeth, have a drink and vomit. Maybe not in this order. She sat up, the world turned with her.

_Don’t puke on his carpet, Miranda!_

She didn’t.

Looking around it took her a while to realize where she was. Living room. Couch. Horrible feeling. Hands trembling. Snakes in her stomach.

She held her charm. That calmed her. _Breathe in, breathe out. They can’t harm you now. You are in control of yourself. Lock the emotions away. That’s the way. Good job, Miranda._

“You are up. Good.”

She turned, Jonathan stood in the kitchen door, looking at her. Arms folded. He didn’t look happy at all. She probably did puke on his carpet! _Damn it, Miranda. Way to make him angry!_

“Thanks,” she said. She closed her eyes for a second, the world spun with her. She wasn’t walking out for a minute. “Last time it wasn’t this bad,” she joked.

“It shouldn’t have been. I had to give you something to calm down. The charm didn’t fix your panic attack.”

“It didn’t?” The tremble didn’t stop. She swallowed saliva. It didn’t help?

“Are you planning to tell me what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. I… need to… Excuse me.”

She ran in the bathroom on time. Her stomach clenched rock hard and threw up. She collapsed next to the toiled and breathed.

Better. Much better.

It didn’t help. Jonathan had to calm her.

Fuck! Fuck it!

She pulled herself together. Washed her mouth and face. She felt the tremble getting smaller. _Calm down, Miranda. It’s gonna be okay. You’ve dealt with them for over a decade. You can do this._

Jonathan waited for her. She thanked him again feeling a bit awkward. “I didn’t know this will happen.”

“How do you feel?” he ignored her self-bashing. To her surprise he sounded calm and really interested.

“Like shit.”

“Did you find what you wanted?”

“I think so. I need time to figure it out.”

He calmed a bit. “Don’t do this again without supervision.”

She smiled ready to fire back at him but stopped herself. “I don’t plan to.”

“Go home. I’ll call you later.”

“Thanks, Jonathan.”

Whatever care he had in his voice disappeared and he smirked at her. “Don’t thank me, Miranda. Remember – you owe me.”

Oh, she did. But shower and sleep first.

***

They were real.

She will die.

***

Miranda stayed home for two day. This was another reason she hired Terry – she can vail in self-pity for days and the business is still running. She used that time to read about the ritual again but found nothing to help her.

She came around. Accepted her faith.

She is dying.

The ghosts were cancer growing stronger and closer and one day they will devour her body and take her to the afterlife.

Miranda wasn’t ready to die. She didn’t want to. But she ran out of options. Jonathan Crane might help her with emotions but not with ghosts. They were her to deal with and she failed.

_Just accept you lost, Miranda. It’s easier than to fight this. It will cause you less pain this way._

Giving up wasn’t on her schedule. But she made a mental note to do it later.

***

Jonathan visited her week after. She had her marbles back – as much as she could. She was happy to see him. It brought her back to reality. There are not only ghosts, there is real world out there. Miranda needed to be reminded of that knowledge. To get back on the ground. Be grounded.

“I didn’t have time to praise your place last time,” he said.

“Thanks. I like making my place comfy. Small things, you know. It makes it feel like home despite me still moving around.”

“I was surprised by your book collection.”

“Oh god.”

“My thoughts exactly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many low-quality chick li and porn at one place.”

“Listen, quality literature is great and all, but I want to turn off my brain sometimes. Don’t judge.”

Jonathan smirked happily. “I will have to lend you better things, so you catch up with my intellect.”

“Wow, that was low blow,” Miranda scoffed. “Leave my flat, you philistine.”

“I was just joking. Also, you are using that word incorrectly. You are the philistine.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she grinned. “But I also don’t think you’ve come to insult my bookshelf.”

“No, I’ve come to collect the debt.” Jonathan said that with calm straight face. Miranda loved that, it made her hairs stand up. She scratched her head a bit.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I will leave that as a surprise.”

“Oh, okay. I have a suggestion.” She felt like a schoolgirl saying this. She never had problem going right to the point, but in this scenario, she felt it’s inappropriate. Jonathan was the one calling the shots. “If you want to hear it that is.”

He did it again. Left her in silence waiting for his answer as if she wasn’t worth the talk. It got under her skin. She was ready to say things anyways, but he finally said: “I’ll allow you to say it.”

Allow? What the hell? No, he didn’t come to insult her bookshelf but her! Damn him and his fucked-up way she liked so much.

She took out a night mask from her drawer and set it on the table. “I thought that if I can’t see you, you will feel better. And you can lead my hands, so I don’t touch something you don’t want.” Also, she won’t see who is in the room with them, but she kept that for herself.

“Do you trust me enough for that? You won’t see what I’ll do.”

“Yes.” Miranda wanted to say more but couldn’t get it off her tongue. It would feel too much like commitment.

“I will think about it,” he said calmly eyeing her. “Interesting suggestion, Miranda. Does that mean you think about me often?”

“No, I…”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he stopped her.

She shuffled on her chair. To the point, so harsh. “Yes, I think about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

Why? What kind of question is that? Why not? She never thought about reasons, just him. _Oh, Miranda, don’t be dull. You know exactly what he wants to hear. Indulge him._

“Because you are handsome. And clever. You see right through me. And I like when you order me around. I don’t have to think.” She smiled a bit over the tingle in her stomach. “And you fuck really good.”

He didn’t seem to be phased by any of that. “Do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

She hesitated a bit – for his pleasure – and then took down her sweater and pants. Sitting across to him in her underwear, she let her hands run on her body just to keep him on his toes. It affected him and she knew. His face might not say so, but the way he moved to sit more comfortably did.

“But in my imagination, you always tell me what to do,” she winked at him.

“Are you that uninventive?” Jonathan replied with pleased expression.

She pulled her bra letting her nipples out. She played with them for a bit, rolling her thumbs on them. She sighed here and there. “Maybe I am.”

“No, you need to try harder, Miranda.”

Oh, come on. She really wanted him to tell her. Instead he was stalling again. She was horny and he was making it worse. She would take anything from him. Just one word. No? Fine!

She slowly reached inside her underwear. Her pussy was so wet her fingers slipped inside easily. Jonathan will have to use his imagination. Everything was properly hidden behind her panties. He will have to work for it. She took out her fingers and rubbed her wetness on her clitoris. She smiled looking in his eyes.

Slowly she touched herself. Sometimes slipped in, still played with her nipple. Moaned for him, but she wasn’t planning to finish it. She was teasing him. And herself. Her body was warm, wet and ready and she wanted Jonathan to fuck her. This she could do any other time, alone.

Finally, Jonathan stood up and came to her. “You do not stop,” he warned. He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. Then he kissed her, deep, his tongue found hers. She replied the same. Her fingers still playing with her clit. She moaned to his mouth, he wouldn’t let her go and breathe. He forced that kiss so long and the sensation was mind numbing. When she tried to get away, he just gripped stronger and pulled her in.

He let go after a while. She breathed in, the excitement trembled her body. She couldn’t speak, she was still feeling his tongue inside her and she wished he would hold just a little bit longer.

“I like that idea of yours,” he said, “it will fit nicely with mine.”

She would say something, but he still held her chin so strongly, she couldn’t open her mouth. Did he know how easy it would be to snap her neck now? Was she the only one who realized those things? So much power and he might not even know.

“You keep doing that,” he said. She kept masturbating, slowly, the happy tingle sometimes woke her up from thoughts. She was excited for what he came up with. Maybe she will regret it. She will absolutely regret it.

She just wanted to touch him so bad!

“Last chance,” he whispered to her ear. She shivered.

“You afraid?” she asked.

He scoffed and his expression tightened. “Of you?” he said insulted. “No, you are obedient little girl, you are not scary.” He put the blindfold on her. The world disappeared leaving her only sensation of her body and sounds.

The lack of one sense was deceiving. She thought she knew what was going on for a second and then as she touched herself and few tingles clouded her mind, she got lost. Shaking of her body, wetness and pleasure, those were only things left for her. And occasional sound that could have mean anything.

How long was this going on? She didn’t know. For too long. Where was he? So silent. She bit her lip. _Do not call his name. That’s what he wants. That’s why he keeps you waiting, to make you desperate._

Damn him.

“Professor?”

Nothing.

Oh god damn him, she won’t be able to keep this up. She felt the need to fasten the pace of masturbation. To finish it. Woman can only take so much.

And then…

She gasped as she felt fingers run on her neck. Comfortably, slowly. And they were gone.

She tightened in anticipation of next touch. Where? Come on?

Nothing.

She moaned frustrated.

On her leg, he reached for her inner thigh and stopped again.

“Professor, please, I can’t take this,” she begged.

She nearly screamed when he touched her breasts. And stopped. Her stomach. He scars. Cheeks. One after the other, so slowly, and she never knew what will be next. He stopped and she stretched out to him as if she could get more. Always too slow.

The anticipation was worse than any pain in the world. She loved it and hated it. She wanted him to continue and stop and just take her.

“Look at you, so hungry for a touch,” he said silently. “You should be ashamed.”

She wasn’t at all. She could lower herself like this forever.

He finally grabbed her wrists. He was standing over her, he tucked her to sit straight. He kissed tips of her fingers, one by one, and licked her wetness of it. It gave her ideas, reminded her of time she had him deep in her mouth. She wanted that again. To feel him.

He delivered. He led her palm from his mouth to his neck. And then to his chest. Miranda gasped silently. She felt how careful he was. Very stiff. He wasn’t relaxed at all. His grip was strong, as if he was worried she could break free, and do what she wants. Not good.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” she said in hope of calming him down.

“Who allowed you to talk, Miranda?” he hissed.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s second time. Third time I will have to punish you.”

She thought about it. He seemed to loosen the grip a bit, she still had her hand on his chest. She moved her fingers a bit, feeling his skin. So normal. She loved that. But he was still unsure. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

She felt him relax, as if he gave up on her and realized she can’t harm him. And then she felt painful pinch on her breast. She shouted, but he caught her hand before she could cover the place.

“I warned you,” he whispered so close to her she felt her insides tightened. They wished to have him.

She stayed silent.

“Good girl.”

She enjoyed she could touch him. She wished to see his expression. Did he let his guard down? Is he pleased? She wanted to know. She wished he said something. Or gasped. Anything.

Always when it looked like he will want her to touch his penis he avoided it. She let him enjoy the touches. She was patient. It took him long time again, but this time she felt like it was for him, not to boil her in lust.

When he finally let her go, she was silent. She wanted to reach for him, hug him, hold him close and kiss him, but she knew the boundaries.

“You’ve done good, Miranda.” She heard his voice somewhere behind her. “If only you weren’t that obnoxiously loud and touchy.”

Rude. She didn’t say anything.

“I can see you try, but I don’t think you are capable of shutting up. I will help you with that.”

From behind he placed something on her chest and moved it around, so she understood. He circled a plastic around her nipple. Oh man, was this his thing?

“I’ll be good,” she pleaded.

“Here you go again, talking. Good thing I brought this. Open your mouth.” She hesitated. “Do I have to make you?” he warned her. Miranda surrendered and did what he asked. Jonathan put the gag in and tightened it behind her head. Miranda had trouble to swallow. She will drool like a dog. Breathing was fine.

“That’s better. And now we must do something about those hand of yours. Always touching yourself like some sort of harlot. You aren’t a harlot, are you, Miranda?” he said massaging her boobs.

She moaned and shook her head.

“Good, let me see.”

Something clicked and her hands were restrained behind her back. She was at complete mercy of this man. He could do anything. She let him do that. He could simply turn on her now. The danger was real. It was exciting.

“Miranda, you follow orders so nicely,” he kept playing with her boobs. “I think you deserve a reward.”

He walked in front of her and took down her panties. He didn’t even need to use force to open her legs. She gasped as she felt his fingers on her clit. He rubbed it a bit and she bended her back under the sensation.

“Are you sure you aren’t a harlot?” he said amusement in his voice.

He licked her. She would scream if the gag let her. He focused on her clit and teased it with his tongue. Sucked it, played with it. She moaned silently. He held her thighs open, gripping her strong, she wanted to force him down more. His mouth on her cunt felt so good.

He slipped two fingers inside her. Licked her and moved them. Ate her out and she felt like she will lose her mind any second. The sensation was so strong, so great. Sensitive parts were screaming from pleasure. He wasn’t stopping.

This is it. He wasn’t letting her go. With ever lick she was closer. She wanted to grab him and force him down, but her restrains didn’t let her. Her screams were muffled. Her body was fighting and then with final wave of pleasure it was over.

She trembled, gasped for the air. He caressed her crotch for a while adding to her twitching. She nearly collapsed, all her muscles giving up. God, she loved him. It was so great. She would tell him, but she couldn’t. She would kiss him right there and let him fuck her so he can be just as pleased as he was.

“Look at you,” he said still wetting his hand on her. “Your face is so beautiful like this.”

His voice came to her from far away. She was lost in orgasm land. She didn’t understand what he was saying.

He stopped touching her and stood up.

“Do you know what would make it prettier?” Jonathan asked.

Tired, she shook her head.

“Me.”

Him?

What?

Oh… did he mean… oooh.

She sat straight, waves of pleasure still pulsed in her, but she tried for him not to move much. She bended her head backwards to show her face some more for him.

“Mmm, that’s good. Good girl, Miranda.” She heard him gasp few times. Then he moaned silently. She felt wet and warm sensation on her face. She moaned back to him.

She heard him sit down. Semen was slowly dripping of her face to her breast. She sat still.

“You hold right there. I need to remember this beautiful look.”

She did. This time he didn’t take forever. Soon he came to her and took her gag out. She tasted the semen but before she could say something, he silenced her with deep kiss. Less forceful and more passionate this time. She really felt every emotion he had. She kissed him back.

“Thank you, Miranda,” he whispered almost silently.

She smiled. “My pleasure.”

She wasn’t lying.


	8. Chapter 8

Life was going well. Work was great. Jonathan was good to her. He didn’t even make rude comment when lending her his Edgar Allan Poe collection. They never officially said anything about their relationship. There was something and they didn’t name it. Miranda thought about it as two broken people licking each other’s wounds.

Things were good.

So why did this happen?

Maybe… No… but maybe… All was good… So why would he?

She was sitting in the hall of her flat. Crawled in the corner, phone in her hand, stared at it. She could ruin all these good things with one question. But she had to make sure. Final touch to the doom. Final nail to her coffin.

She called Jonathan.

“I don’t have time now, Miranda, I am working,” he greeted her.

“One question.”

“Hm?”

“Are you giving me something?”

Silence on his side. She made him angry. She knew it.

“Nothing you don’t know about.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

She turned her phone off. It wasn’t his doing.

The room was black as shadows devoured it. Their tendril grew closer to her and soon they will get her too.

***

Miranda stood on the edge of the roof and she looked down. The lights of cars were running through the streets like some colourful game of Pacman. The sound carried through the air. Gotham was so noisy. Would anyone hear her scream?

“Miranda?”

Somehow, she knew he will find her here. Somehow, she hoped he will, but it angered her nonetheless. She looked over her shoulder to acknowledge him. Batman stood there ready to jump after her, if she made that one step into nothingness.

“Hey B, what’s up?” she giggled.

“Are you high?” he asked surprised.

She looked down at the pavement and back at him. “About ten floors.”

“Miranda, this is not you. Step down, please.”

“What do you know,” she hissed annoyed.

“It’s the drugs making you do things.”

“Are you going to blame Jonathan again?”

“Step down.”

She turned on one leg, nearly lost her balance, then stepped down the rail. Walked to him, throwing her arms. “Happy? That you moved the inevitable for a minute?”

“You need to stop…”

“What? Seeing Jonathan?”

“Miranda…”

“Will you school me about danger again? I’m not the clown, Bruce! It’s not the same!”

“Okay,” he resigned. “Tell me.”

She fell quiet from surprise. She scratched her head. Tell him? All? She never told the truth. But she will be dead soon. At least here she can be sincere. She sat at AC.

“I’ve been seeing ghosts for over a decade now. The charm kept them at bay. I figured I was crazy. I visited every expert in existence. Schizophrenia professional. Split personality doctor. Anxiety shrink. Whatever you imagine, I was probably there. I did all in my power to get rid of the ghosts to no avail.

So, three years ago, I decided I’ve had enough. Just make sure your charm is safe, Miranda. I could live with that. It’s like a handicap. I am pretty much carrying a bomb around that can kill me. But people live with worse, you know?”

She played with the necklace, dinging silently.

“And then I started to notice them. The shadows. I tried to rationalize them. They are the League. They try to kill me. I made them up. I keep seeing normal things and overreacting. You know? But deep down I knew it’s not true. Deep down, little Miranda was screaming at me to fix this. So, I found another professional and moved to Gotham.

See, Jonathan Crane didn’t make me this. I was this before I came here. He didn’t make me worse, the decay just caught up with me. I never really believed he can help me, you know? But I hoped. Maybe his drugs will melt some part of my brain. Fry me hard and make the ghosts disappear by accident. And if not… Hey, at least my body is useful for science.”

She rubbed her eyes. “It’s not the same. This is not – I would leave if I wanted – situation. This is – I see no reason to stop – situation. Nothing can fix me. But at least I am still doing things, trying to enjoy life. And if I kill the ghosts by accident in the process, who can blame me for being a good pet?”

“Miranda…” Batman sighed and sat next to her as if they were old friends. “You are still in very bad place.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughed. “No, I like Crane. But I will die soon. I might as well rip myself out before I start to suffer.”

“I know someone who might be able to help,” he suggested.

“Please, don’t say magic.”

He kept quiet.

“Oh my god! It’s not magic!”

“Do you have anything to lose at this point?”

“My dignity!” He looked at her. “Shut up, I know,” Miranda snapped. Then she sighed. “What’s his name?”

“John Constantine.”

***

They found John Constantine gambling in New York bar. Cards in one hand, cigarette in the other, shit-eating grin on his face. He was winning this round just like every round before that.

“Sorry, lads, looks like I won again. New round?”

“Forget it,” grumbled his opponents.

“I’d like to play.”

“Bloody hell, it’s the Bat!” Constantine drank his whiskey in one gulp. “What do you and the nice lass want?”

Miranda couldn’t see any way this man could help her. He looked like a mess. Blond hair that didn’t see brush for days. Trench coat and red tie made him look like some sort of exhibitionist ready to run wild in a park.

“He said you could help me with ghosts,” Miranda said.

“Try psychologist, love.”

“Been there, done that.”

Constantine puffed cigarette smoke with no indication he cares. Miranda was just about to ready to turn and walk out.

“Ever heard of survival curse?” asked Batman for her.

“Might have. What’s in it for you?”

“She is cursed.”

Constantine looked at her. “Nah, she ain’t. She would have them crawl all over her.”

Miranda grew angry. Would she now? She does! They are here! “If I die it’s on you,” she grumbled and took down the charm. She left it on the table.

She lost her breath immediately.

“Bloody hell take it back!” shouted Constantine and forced the charm in her hand. She gasped for air. “I haven’t seen it this big yet.”

“Can you help?” asked Batman.

“I don’t know. Let’s go.”

“I will leave you to it, I need to get back to Gotham.”

“Say hi to Nightwing for me,” grinned Constantine, but Batman was gone already. “Creepy, isn’t he?”

“I can see him go. It’s stupid when you know what to look for,” shrugged Miranda.

Constantine’s lair – yes, it was a lair, it looked like basement vault mixed with museum of curiosities – was surprisingly warm and welcoming. “Don’t touch anything, one curse is enough,” he warned her as they passed several objects. She could only guess what they were used for.

“So magic is real, huh?” she whispered to herself.

“I’m afraid so, pet. It’s dangerous thing. I would recommend not playing with it.”

“Too late.”

“Sit down.” There was a space between all the things. The ground was clean concrete. Constantine took a chalk out of drawer. “For how long are you cursed?”

“It will be eleven years soon.”

He looked at her shock in his eyes. “Eleven? That’s impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“How did you… Let me guess. The bell,” he pointed at her charm. “Your ghosts must be pissed off as hell for letting them wait so long.”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Where did you get it?

Her time was coming. She remembered stumbling, blinded by ghosts, constantly feeling them grabbing at her heart prepared to squeeze the life of it. She shuffled through market full of spices and sweets without taste. A man has seen her, took her hand and led her to a side street. She was so blinded she didn’t even realize the danger. But he took her to a shop not unlike this hideout. The owner saw her and gave her the charm. Just like that. No payment necessary.

The ghosts were gone. When she came back later with money and to say thank you, she couldn’t find the street nor the shop.

“You were lucky,” Constantine said. “Faery folk is not always so nice.”

“It’s not working anymore. They are getting through the charm. It’s weak. Or they grew stronger. I don’t know.”

Constantine nodded. He started drawing at the concrete, explaining as he did. “Ghosts are work, you know? If someone dies there is echo left after them. Sometimes it’s weak, sometimes it’s strong. Exorcism doesn’t help. Sometimes facing them head on and figuring what they want can stop them.”

“They want me dead.”

“Maybe. Anyways, I cannot promise we’ll get rid of them. But I can make your charm stronger and bound to soul.”

“A what?”

“Make it so nobody can take it off but you.”

Miranda looked at him amazed. “Really? Yes, do it!” Was she really that desperate she was ready to believe his words? Batman wouldn’t take her to some conman, right? She had nothing to lose either. She just wanted this to work. _Please, please let it work._

“I will need you to come here, love.”

He finished the circle full of runes and pentagrams. She looked at it unsure. “You gonna sacrifice me?”

“No. But fair warning. People around me die often.”

“That’s fine, me too.”

He lit another cigarette. “This circle will protect you while I work on your thing. I will need your blood too.”

“Are you sure they won’t get to me?” she asked as he handed her knife and bowl. She cut herself without hesitation but taking off the charm was different commitment.

“It’s a barrier ghosts can’t cross. The inner circle is protection symbol, the ring around it is made of blessed salt. Never leave the home without it, it hurts most of supernatural beings. As long as you don’t break either they won’t get to you.”

“And you saw them, right?”

“No. I felt them. I could see them if I focused more. But they are real, if that’s what you are asking.”

“I just… overwhelmed.”

“That’s okay, love. You just sit there and let me do my job.”

“Wait, wait. What about the payment?”

“Payment?”

“You don’t look a man who does this from good of his heart.”

He chuckled. “I will help. If you want to pay me after, I drink whiskey, love money and shagging.”

“You’re funny. My treat later then.”

“Now would you give me the thing so we can kick these ghosts to bollocks?”

She took down the charm. Hand trembling, she gave it to Constantine. Ghosts appeared immediately, hoovering around the circle. She gasped, but they couldn’t touch her. The choking feeling didn’t come. She laughed nervously.

“It’s working.”

“They are pissed,” agreed Constantine.

“Will you be okay?” she realized he is out the circle with them.

“Yeah, they are after you. They are blind to anyone else.”

Miranda sat on the floor. She watched Constantine throwing things in the bowl. He poured ugly looking liquid in and dropped her charm there. He kept mumbling.

“Why are you doing this to us, Miranda?” she heard, and she jumped. They were… She understood what they were saying!

“It hurts.”

“We are lonely without you.”

“You killed us.”

“No,” she hissed. “I just didn’t die.”

“We feel empty without you here. Come to us. You are our sister. We belong together.”

“Don’t listen to them, pet, they are just trying to get to you,” Constantine said between his mumbles.

Miranda held hands on her ears.

“You promised to die with us.”

“We all agreed.”

“Die!”

When is it going to be over? She couldn’t take their words. She wanted to live, that’s all. She just left while they finished the business. Not her fault they committed suicide! That was on them, not her!

“Hold on, it’s almost finished.”

“He can’t save you, Miranda. We won’t let him.”

She raised her sight. One of them moved to Constantine.

“Watch out!” she screamed.

Too late.

The shadow hammered Constantine to the side. He screamed and flew across the room. He hit his head on a shelf and dropped to the ground. Bleeding. Not moving.

“Fuck! Constantine! John!” she shouted through laughter of ghosts. “You damn freaks!”

“Give up, Miranda. Just come out.”

The charm was too far. Even if she ran, she couldn’t get to it. Ghosts would catch her.

Fuck!

Nothing close enough to the circle. Nothing useful anyways. Her bag she could reach. But for what?

She grinded her teeth. She was trapped. Like a rat in slow heating cage. “Constantine!” she tried again. No answer. Great, they just killed her only chance for semi-normal life.

She sat down again. Hidden her face, covered her ears. Their voices resonated the room. Mocked her. Annoyed her. Making her feel like shit. She would cry. She couldn’t. Minutes turned to hour. Hour turned to several.

Nobody will help her.

She could call for help, but what can anyone do? The ghosts will just cut them to pieces. Kill them, like they did to Constantine.

Lost.

She won’t give herself up.

She needed that bag. Eyeing it she realized she could reach, grab it fast and bring it to the circle. She breathed in and prepared.

She grabbed.

A ghost cut.

She screamed and retraced. The bag safely in her hand, but on her arm was long cut bleeding hard. She quickly took off her sweater and tied it around the wound. It kept bleeding. Her only fear was the blood smearing the circle

She had her bag. What now?

“No saving yourself,” said ghost.

She knew.

“Constantine, if you are alive, I will not let you die,” she said towards him. Nothing.

She took out the pill bottle.

Doctor’s orders.


	9. Chapter 9

Gotham city had its fair share of crazy criminals. Some more dangerous than others. With different motivations and different techniques of terrorizing its citizens. Some of them even had higher goals, just like Jonathan. Environment, science, medicine…

Yes, he had his goals.

But not today. Nothing of that mattered today.

“Where is she!?”

Batman was standing on the other side of the room.

“Crane, let them go!”

Scarecrow tightened the grip on his scythe. Three whimpering people kneeling in front of him were trembling with the blade under their necks. One swing and they all die. Jonathan didn’t care. This ruined all his preparations to turn Gotham into a fear rat hole, but to hell with it. He will kill all these people if necessary!

“Where is Miranda, tell me!” he growled. Batman was prepared to jump him. “I wouldn’t do that, Batsy.”

He set gas mines. One wrong move and everyone will leave to fear land.

“Let these people go,” Batman repeated.

“I found that stupid Batdisc at her place. She went to you!” accused him Jonathan. After the call he decided to visit her, but she was gone. He scared Terry in the toyshop, but she wasn’t there either. He decided to give her time, she obviously had some issues. He’d seen it on her for some time now. She was following nothingness with her eyes. But the message from her broke his calmness. He had to find her. And the Bat knew where.

“Let them go and I will tell you.”

“Lies! You will take me straight to Arkham like you do!”

“She is in New York.”

New York? Why would she go there? Nonsense.

“Why?”

“Let them go.”

Jonathan frowned behind his mask. _Play it smart_. He was smart. He was always on top. He shouldn’t have emotions tearing him apart like this. No, that was detestable and unwise.

He took out a detonator.

“See this, Bat?” he hissed. “I’ve hidden toxin bombs throughout the city. Schools. Banks. Flats. Randomly, no system. I let them go. And if you do anything funny, I will let this city sink into fear and anarchy, you hear me? Everyone will see people are animals!”

He moved the scythe never letting Batman out of his sight. “Take me to her,” he demanded.

“She is in New York getting help you couldn’t give her.”

Jonathan clenched his fist. He tried! He would be able if given more time! Bat knows nothing!

_Calm down. Think straight. It’s about Miranda now, not you._

“She is safe,” said Batman.

“No, she is not! See?” Jonathan waved his phone. Then he sent it to Batman on the floor.

“Is this…” Batman wasn’t sure what it means.

“Bad! She’d never sent anything like that. She might be dead. Take me to her!”

“Give me the detonator.”

“Oh no, no, that stays with me as a failsafe.”

Batman stood there, frowning.

“Fine,” Jonathan gave up, took out another detonator and switched it off. Mines around them deactivated. “Convinced now?”

“You will face justice for this.”

“Miranda.” He reminded.

That’s how he ended up in Batmobile. Hand ready on the detonator hidden away from the Bat. He was thinking. What was she doing? She left and then sent him that? What happened?

“Why is she there?” Jonathan asked.

“To get help from a magician.”

Jonathan scoffed. Was she really that desperate? Did she not believe he can help? He was ready to. He could do it. But no. Useless Jonathan. He got angry again. He couldn’t stand the idea she just picked someone else! Good for nothing, was he?

But the message…

She was desperate.

Batman pushed few buttons and a call started to ring. John Constantine – said the name on the screen. The call kept ringing. Jonathan connected the dots.

“That’s him?”

Batman stayed silent.

“What did she do now?” Jonathan whispered to himself.

***

Miranda lay in the circle. The sweater soaked with her blood. She was trembling and crying. She took the whole bottle. The ghosts were laughing. She threw her phone at them. It broke. She regretted everything in her life. She just wanted to die. But she couldn’t! She was still alive, breathing, suffering. Hours maybe? Days? She didn’t know. It felt like infinity.

Why did she have to suffer?

“Why?” she asked, her voice almost gone.

“You killed us.”

“Did not.”

She remembered the day clearly. Her and the others walking into that building. From the very morning she knew she couldn’t do it. Maybe her fellow assassins will take her with them, but she wasn’t the one pulling the trigger. When they entered the building, every nerve in her body screamed at her.

I don’t want to die!

She was supposed to go alone to the first floor. When she did, she threw away all her equipment and ran, leaving her associates behind.

The building blew and crumbled on itself.

She was long gone.

“You killed yourselves.”

“No, Miranda. They knew. They caught us. Hurt us. We waited for your help and it never came. Then we managed to get to a trigger. Beaten. In pain. All because of you.”

“No.”

“Yes! It was your fault we suffered!”

She forced herself to sit. Head spinning. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be sorry when you are dead!”

Can’t argue with ghosts. They are echo, that’s what Constantine said. They are after one thing only. Her suffering. Her death.

“Okay,” she said.

Ghosts waited. They surrounded the circle. Buzzing with excitement.

“Okay, you can kill me,” she looked at them. “But let me check him first.”

Constantine was still out cold.

“No.”

“What can you lose? A minute?” she snapped. “I want to see if he is alive. Get him help. Then torture me for infinity, here I am! That’s what you want. Why would he have to pay for it. He helps people. Even dead ones. Come on.”

They buzzed harder. Trying to figure out her trick. So was she. What can she do outside the circle? She can’t get to the charm, that was on the other side. She can’t outrun them. She will… die.

“We’ll allow it. But your punishment will be harsh.”

Did she trust them? No. Did she have a choice? Also not.

Miranda gathered herself. Shuffled. Hesitated and slowly left the circle. Nothing. It worked. She convinced the echo! It wanted her, not John Constantine. Slowly, head spinning, she made her way to him. Fell on her knees, she felt better after the short walk.

Constantine had pulse. Thank gods. The wound on his head stopped bleeding. Concussion, maybe. Hopefully no internal bleeding or he would be goner. She searched his trench coat. Found a phone. Missed calls. Didn’t need that now. Pack of cigarettes. Booze flask. And some powder that burned like hell when it touched the wound. She held it in her fist while she opened the flask. She poured the alcohol into his mouth.

The ghosts waited.

Constantine started to cough.

“Thank god,” she laughed in relief.

And she felt tight grip on her chest. Black tendril caught her and choke her. “No!” she screamed and threw the powder. The ghost screeched and let go. For a second, she was free.

“Constantine, little help?” she shouted. He barely woke up, but was fast on his legs, as if he got beaten unconscious daily.

“Hold on, love!” He also threw the powder their way. Ghosts backed off. Screeching, tendrils waving around breaking everything in their way. Few objects fell on the ground. “Oh, bollocks,” Constantine commented when smoke poured out of one vase and disappeared. Other things seemed undamaged for now.

Charm too far away.

“What now?” she asked.

“Let me think.”

He jumped towards a table and took a bottle of water. He threw it to Miranda. “Spray them, it’s sea water. Just don’t get any on yourself.”

Oh great, more curses. Miranda opened it. Just in time, ghost was ready to catch her. She sprayed it and it backed off screaming in pain.

“I need that charm!”

“I know!”

Constantine ran to her and caught her wrist.

“I will slow them, you run for it, okay?” he said.

“How?”

She nearly screamed. Next to her stood Miranda Bradbury. Shop owner. Assassin. The same wound on her arm. The other Miranda pulled out the powder. “Now, love!” She sprinkled it through the air. The ghosts couldn’t get anywhere near them.

Miranda used their confusion of two ladies suddenly running around the basement. She jumped on a table, kicked few artefacts as she ran.

Ghost grabbed her leg. She fell, screamed. Then sprayed it.

It let go. She gathered herself. Few more meters to the charm.

The other Miranda was nearing it from the other side. The ghosts didn’t know who to follow. She threw the powder at them with happy grin. She was bleeding from her nose.

Fighting these fuckers back felt so great!

They surrounded the bowl. She will have to get through them. There wasn’t much water left.

“What does it do?” she shouted.

“The water burns!”

Does it now? She poured a drop on her finger. It hissed, burnt her skin red. Painful. Not deadly.

“Now, Constantine!”

Miranda poured water on herself and ran straight through them. They shadows caught her their grip weakened as they burned themselves. They howled in pain. She screamed. The pain was horrible.

She grabbed.

The bowl slipped and fell on the ground.

Ding.

The charm disappeared under the table.

“No!”

She saw Constantine get sucker punched. He fell between the tables, ghosts hurled on him.

She felt tuck on her leg. She fell again. She tried to crawl to the charm, but ghosts pinned her to the ground. “No! Let me go, you fuckers!”

“You can’t run, Miranda. You fiend. You evil traitor.”

The heaviness grew bigger. Inch by inch. Her body was forced down. “No!” so close. She could see the charm. “No!”

Her breath got taken away.

“Die.”

Her vision got blurry.

No, she didn’t want to die!

She…

Saw a movement.

The charm shot from under the table right into her palm. She gasped for the air as ghosts disappeared. She laughed, turned on her back. Tears were streaming from her yes. Body in pain. Weak. Numb. She needed to sleep.

“Miranda!”

She saw familiar face over her. She couldn’t believe it. She laugh-cried some more.

“You have to have first aid in that stupid belt, come on!”

She felt pressure on the arm. The small pain, so very different from everything else. Burning.

“You’re gonna be okay, Miranda.”

“I know. I have my doctor.”

She tried to stay awake but couldn’t.

***

Jonathan grew more frustrated by minute. The Bat pinpointed Constantine’s location to the middle of nowhere. They walked around like two imbeciles looking for the entrance to… anything. “You have to be mistaken,” he snapped.

“Constantine uses magic to conceal his place. It would let us in if he allowed.”

“He is probably dead.” And so is probably Miranda. He hated that idea. It ate him from the inside. He didn’t want her dead. She was first person in a long time nice to him without being fake. She shot straight. She was messed up like him. He had to help.

They walked around for several more minutes. Jonathan was never one for hoping. He knew life wasn’t like that. You can want good things, try to be nice and humble and the world will fuck you over anyways. He didn’t hope he will get to Miranda. He demanded all gods to listen.

And as if they listened, when he turned around for hundredth time, there is was. A building. It appeared out of nowhere as if it was sleeping until now and it was shaken awake by something.

“Bat!” he shouted but didn’t wait. The door was open. He ran inside, he was sure Miranda was there. He heard her scream painfully. He basically jumped down of stairs.

The things in the room were flying all over the place. There was chaos, Miranda was screaming on the ground, trying to reach something under the table. Jonathan acted right away. No stalling. He ran for the table.

What is that unholy screeching in the air?

He scooped under. Grabbed the bell and threw it towards Miranda. She caught it and like magic, all the crazy screaming and destruction stopped. Jonathan didn’t have any time to think about that. He ran to her.

“Miranda!”

What the hell happened to her! She was white in her face, and all bloodied. Her skin was horribly red – burned and slightly smoking. What did she do? He heard himself snap at Batman, but he was focused to help her. Stitch the wound, stop the bleeding, calm the burns, don’t let her sleep.

She mumbled something incomprehensible and fainted.

“No, no, no, Miranda, you mustn’t sleep,” he slapped her little. “Wake up.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly.

“How many pills did you take?”

“Bottle?”

“Yes, from the bottle.”

She giggled. “Bottle.”

A whole bottle. Holy shit, how was she still breathing? “Bad idea, Miranda. C’mere, sit up. You need to throw it up.”

She was falling unconscious as she sat there.

“A little help?” he snapped again at the Bat. He came to them and held Miranda straight. “Here goes nothing.” Jonathan forced her mouth open and stuck fingers in her throat.

Her body reacted immediately. She puked all over the floor.

“Do you have water?”

Bat just nodded and left them.

Jonathan leaned Miranda on drawers. “You sit still, girl.”

“Jonathan?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I fought them.”

“You will tell me all about it after you survive this, okay?” he sprayed her burns. They didn’t look too ugly but had to be very painful. Bat’s first aid kit luckily had enough everything.

“Bloody hell, you try to help someone once.” Jonathan turned and froze in shock. Miranda was walking towards him with bleeding forehead.

“What the…”

“Don’t worry about it, lad, that’s your girlfriend over there,” she said.

Miranda on the ground giggled. “Constantine stole my face.”

Batman came back with plastic bottle and handed it to Jonathan. He held it for Miranda. “All of it, Miranda,” he ordered.

“What the hell happened, Constantine?” asked Batman.

“The curse happened. It was stronger than I anticipated. It nearly killed us. But she has strong core that one. How you feelin’, love?”

Miranda held up a thumb, face still ready to collapse.

Jonathan kneeled next to her constantly checking her pulse and waking her up. Just now he started to realize he was trembling. Taking control of his muscles was harder than ever. She nearly died and it fucked him. He hated that feeling so much. This can’t keep happening.

He didn’t listen to Batman and Miranda-double. He was preoccupied. Stress kicked him like a mule. He was slowly calming down though. She is alive. Not gonna die now. He won’t let it happen.

“Jonathan?”

“Yes, Miranda?”

“You came for me?”

“I… yes, Miranda.”

She smiled and then again in the mist of drugs she said: “I fought them.”

Jonathan stood up and faced Constantine. “What happened to her? And what is this?” he pointed at him having her skin.

“That’s long story, love. But she will live. Not many people get ghost choked and live to tell the tale.”

“And the ghosts?”

“Still here, still pissed. But the charm is active now. They won’t bother her anymore.”

Jonathan nodded unsure of what to say. Only thing clear to him now was this horrible feeling burning in his chest. She was alive. That was all that mattered.


	10. Chapter 10

The wounds healed.

The charm was strong.

The shadows were gone.

Miranda was alive.

Batman let Jonathan go with a warning.

All was like before.

Nothing was like before.

Jonathan avoided her like plague. She didn’t blame him. Everything that happened in Constantine’s lair was crazy. She was glad he went radio silent. Even she had things to think about.

Magic was real.

Her curse was worse than anyone anticipated.

Jonathan freaked out. Came to save her. Was she that important? It made her feel guilty, but he saved her. She thanked him but couldn’t get herself to say anything else.

And so, the time went.

The wounds healed.

Life went on.

And it ate her alive. She couldn’t focus on normal things. Her mind was clear of ghosts and all the sudden her priorities changed. She tried to ignore them but postponing everything only made it worse.

“You okay there, boss?” asked her Terry at work.

“I feel like fourteen-year-old,” she said.

“Don’t we all?”

Doesn’t Jonathan?

Miranda sighed. That evening she couldn’t take it anymore and just called him. The ringing of the phone took forever. He didn’t want to talk? It hurt her. After all that he will just stop responding?

Fine. Whatever. She didn’t want to talk to him anyway!

_Aaargh! Fine, Miranda. Are you giving up? Just like that? Letting the idiot off the hook so easily? You’re not leaving this unfinished, are you?_

No, she is not.

She left her flat in a hurry. Didn’t even put proper Banshee attire on. From one place to the other. No stops, no thinking. Dealing with shit like adults! _For fucks sake, Miranda, and this decision took you so long? Pathetic!_

She climbed the house. Held onto the window frame and looked inside. The room was lit, Jonathan was there, sitting, lost in a book.

Just like that, huh? Nice evening, how dares he? Maybe he really doesn’t care.

_You gonna get discouraged now? Without conversation? You are a coward, Bradbury. Big, ugly, stupid-_

“Alright!” she whispered to herself. “Shut the fuck up.”

Pissed, she just kicked the window open and climbed through. Jonathan twitched surprised by the sound, he reached for something, but stopped when he saw her.

“Jonathan fucking Crane, are you avoiding me!?” she walked to him and stood there, towering over him.

“That’s not a way to ente-“

“Oh, shut up. You ghosted me. You don’t return my calls. What did you expect?”

“Calm down, Miranda.”

“Calm down? How about some explanation!”

_Miranda, honey, you are snapping._

_Shut it, reason!_

Jonathan looked perfectly calm, but she saw right through his bullshit. He acted casual but he didn’t look at her.

“What do you want to hear, Miranda?”

“I…”

She didn’t know.

How the fuck did she not know?

Frustrated she sat on the table right in front of him. “I don’t know! Anything is better than this shit. You save me, freak out and cut me out? Why?”

“You needed to recover.”

“Don’t throw that on me, you decided this!”

Now it was him who sighed. “You are correct. I also needed to recover.”

Miranda wanted to say a lot. Didn’t know where to start. “Thank you. And sorry. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“You and your Bat friend had it under control, huh?”

“Oh, shut up! Now you are jealous of the Bat? Is that the reason you cut me?”

“And if it is?”

_Don’t play his game. He is hiding behind it, the damn coward._

“No, it’s not. There is more. Talk to me, Jonathan. Come on, here I am! You are fine calling me a whore and you can’t talk like a man? Fuck that!”

“Are you…”

“Yes, you are a big baby. Talk to me.”

She turned him speechless. There was a mix of amazement and anger in his eyes. Deer in the headlights. She will not let him slip, the snake. Enough of hiding.

“Miranda, I…” he started, but cut himself short. He avoided eye contact. Looked somewhere behind her as if he saw ghosts now. “The magic, the whole situation, it was too much for me.”

_No, no, no, he is hiding behind easy truths. Don’t let him._

“Am I magic? What’s why you can’t stand me?”

“No, it’s…”

Silence again. Then he straightened his back and looked her in the eyes. _There we go. What lie will he make up now?_

“It was the message.”

The… oh fuck. How did she forget that?

“Don’t bother explaining. I understand,” he continued ignoring her shock. “You took the pills, got confused and wrote me. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward about it. So, I avoided you.”

At base level, she believed him.

But she knew him too well.

“Pathological fucking liar!” she snapped. “Concerned about me, were you? When have you ever been concerned about anyone but yourself!”

“When I saved your damn life!” he turned tides hard.

“Oh really! So concerned you didn’t even talk to me after!”

“You were okay!”

“Was I!?”

She started pacing, frustrated with this. How hard was it to just say the truth!

_Good question, Miranda. How hard is it?_

“It’s not true, you know?” she said slowly.

“What isn’t?”

“What you said about the message.”

Stunned he didn’t say a word.

“I wrote you before I took the pills. It… I was going to kill myself. It didn’t work out. But before that I just needed to let you know. To get it out. It wasn’t drugs, it was me.”

She turned to him, facing him more bravely than he ever did to her. “And it’s true what I wrote. I love you.”

He couldn’t speak.

“And I was so glad I’ve seen you! You came for me! And then what? Nothing! I want to know, Jonathan! You faced the fucking Batman! You held the damn city hostage and I get silent treatment!? It’s not fair! Just tell me the truth, I can take it!”

Jonathan watched her, his hands trembling. “But can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “You can. You are not fragile, Jonathan. You can take on some damn emotions.” She wanted to move to him. Hold his hands, calm him down. But that wouldn’t work. This he had to face alone.

“Miranda…” he started but he couldn’t get more words out.

“I don’t judge, Jonathan. Take your time.”

He was breathing slowly to calm himself down. The tremble didn’t go away. His voice didn’t come back. She wouldn’t back off. She’d stand here whole night if necessary. She will make Jonathan Crane say the truth.

“I…” he shook his head and massaged his forehead. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“We move on.”

“What if it’s not true? What if you are just like them?”

“Then you’ll get hurt again.”

“What if we are just crazy?”

“Who’s there to tell us?”

Jonathan clenched his teeth. His whole body was shaking. He panicked. Any other time, he would turn aggressive, she waited for it. He surprised her by not attacking.

Jonathan Crane was crying.

Miranda couldn’t take this anymore. She kneeled next to him and took his hands. He let her.

“I’m not letting you off the hook.”

“You… are horrible,” he whimpered.

“I’m scary, huh?”

He nodded with painful smile.

“Tell me what you want, Jonathan. Really. No games.”

It felt like forever. He was holding her hands painfully hard, but she didn’t care. She held him. Sometimes it looked like he will talk, but he crumbled under pressure again. _Ridiculous, don’t you think, Miranda?_

 _Human_ , she argued the voice. _We are only human._

“I want,” Jonathan finally managed to say, his voice all over the place. “I want… this… to work. Us to work.” He stopped for a bit to breathe again. “I care so much. I thought you’d die. I don’t want that. It was so scary.”

She nodded.

“I… do love you.”

She heard enough. She ignored his shaking and climbed on him. Took his face in her hands and made him look at her.

“Jonathan, I am not going to hurt you.”

He seemed relieved and embarrassed.

She kissed him. She felt him tighten. Very slowly he relaxed and hugged her.

She could hold him whole night.


	11. Epilogue

“Look, all I’m saying is you can’t appreciate fine art.”

“ _You_ are going to school _me_ on fine art?”

“Yes!”

“It is not my fault the movies were utterly boring. You should have picked something with little bit more thought in it.”

“Why do you hate fun, Jonathan?”

“I don’t. I just didn’t find the saga entertaining.”

“But you – on your left, honey.”

Jonathan, hundred meters away from Miranda, looked at his left. The man walking towards him with knife made one more step and fell on the pavement with a bullet in his head.

Miranda reloaded the sniper.

“Thank you.”

“You watched them with me,” she continued uninterrupted scanning the street. These drug deals Jonathan was doing were worse every time. People didn’t appreciate his kind of hallucinogenic drugs.

“Because you seemed excited about it.”

“Aww. Anyway! You had to like at least something. Come on.”

“I liked slow descend into madness in episode two.”

Miranda sighed loudly. “We are breaking up.”

“Because of movies?”

“Episode two is horrible! Oh, they are coming.”

Jonathan turned to two men approaching him. Miranda followed through scope. They were armed but didn’t seem ready to attack. They ignored dead body on the ground. It’s Gotham, corpses are more common than in Victorian London.

Miranda listened to the exchange. Nothing indicated any aggression, so she started looking around for potential danger.

Everything was okay.

The deal was done, and the men left again.

“I really hoped to have nice evening, but if we broke up over Anakin Skywalker, I will cancel,” continued Jonathan as if nothing happened.

“Something interesting on your mind?” Miranda asked in teasing voice.

“No, today I am really tired. I didn’t come up with any scenario. I thought dinner.”

“Aaand?”

“You are childish.”

“And you are adorable when you are shy. You wanna cuddle?”

“Maybe I could show you real fine art with better movie,” avoided Jonathan.

Rustle of cloth sounded behind Miranda.

“You are on your own. I might be late for dinner,” Miranda said.

“Should I bring takeout to Arkham?”

“Do you really think so little of me?”

Miranda turned to face Batman.

“I’m gonna kick his ass.”


End file.
